Sister Jane Shepard, Citadel Mormon Missionary
by jerseydanielgibson
Summary: Sixteen year-old Jane Shepard has selected the Citadel for her two-year missionary work for the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints. But what happens when a young Human starts knocking on alien doors asking if they wish to learn more? Or goes to foreign businesses for charities and community programs? Can the Citadel accept a Mormon? Can a Church exist amongst the stars?
1. Prologue

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith._

Author's Note: I am not, nor have I ever been, a part of the LDS Church. Yet Mormon Missionaries are seen worldwide today, with some 70,000 doing it full-time in acts of proselytizing, secular services, humanitarian aid, and community service. The next time you see a well-dressed group of young men or women with the white name tag knocking on your door and still have no interest in joining, remember that these young people are doing work for their church instead of drinking, smoking, playing video games, getting knocked up, using drugs, or just lounging about the house.

This story isn't about the faith, but the _work_.

So the next time you get a pair of well-groomed, well-dressed young men (yes, you know what to look for) who ask you if you'd like to know more? You can, of course, politely turn them down. But be nice. Offer them refreshments. Thank them for their efforts. Most of them _pay_ out of pocket to do what they see as Christ's work for mankind, saving their own money from mowing lawns or babysitting to do their two-year volunteer work to help mankind in the name of their Lord and Savior. Over a million Mormon Missionaries have traveled the world to open up soup kitchens, get charity donations to the needy, organize clothes drives and food banks, and start up youth programs for children throughout the world.

I might not be a big fan of their religion (yep, I'll admit to it publicly; we all have our flaws), but I certainly respect their values and ethics.

Any error that I make towards the missions and rigors are purely my own, some set for the story (which I will identify), others out of ignorance (in which I apologize).

"_Go ye forward, and teach all nations_." - Holy Bible, New Testament, Book of Matthew, Chapter 28, Verse 19.

* * *

**The Shepard Farmstead, New Edmonton, Mindoir, Magellan System, Voyager Cluster, April 10, 2170**

Tomorrow was the big day. So was the next.

Jane Catherine Shepard packed her bags for had to be the _umpteenth_ time as she folded and refolded all her dresses, unzipped the pouches that had her datapads that had her necessaries downloaded, from the Holy Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Peril of Great Price, the Missionary Handbook, and the current Preach My Gospel edition. She had return home just the week prior from her Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, spending six weeks on Earth in preparation for her mission.

Jane, like many colonists born on one of Earth's sister colonies, had never set foot on the Homeworld of Mankind, in awe of the experience as she set foot on the tarmac of the Salt Lake City Interstellar Spaceport, seeing Earth from the ground level for the very first time with hundreds of other soon-to-be Missionaries from the colonies. Jane hadn't been the only one moved to tears at the sight of Salt Lake City, set up in a grid throughout the entirety of the city based upon the ground work by Brigham Young back in 1847, its streets running true north-south/east-west to create the more organized city on Earth. She had seen pictures, heard stories, and was told by her mother and her father of their own trips to Zion when they went on their missionary work and visited Utah… but words were nothing in comparison to the sight where Mormon pioneers had finally settled, free of persecution, to make a semi-arid land near a great salt lake they had called _Deseret_; the Promised Land. Starting with the Temple Square, the city had been gridded in perfect squares as best as possible in the Wasatch Front, bordered by the Wasatch Mountains and the Oquirrh Mountains, with lakes set in between the Great Valley where Salt Lake City, Provo, and Ogden existed along with other towns. Her father James had told Jane what it would look like and what to expect, but those had been words. Loving words from a devoted father to his eldest child, but words proved to pale compared to the experience.

Upon landing, Jane had wept at the sight, as had many other colony children just like her.

Missionary Training Center was all Jane thought it would be and more. A school of secular discipling, training, and activities set next to the legendary Brigham Young University, the young almost-sixteen year old teenager had gone through six weeks as oppose to the normal three-week course that would teach young missionaries the rules of their work, church and personal conduct and doctrine, the enforcement of their schedules, how to proselytize, proper interactions with people, and any additional training and information that was needed. For most, Missionary Training was three weeks, the need for foreign language teaching having been done away thanks to the Universal Language Translator that translated not only foreign Earth languages to the users' native language, but also foreign _species'_ languages as well if one bought the licenses and downloads. Most of the girls in Jane's classes were gone after three weeks, while hers would run for six. Others had been amazed upon learning where she would go. Most new missionaries were assigned missions at stakes where there was a mission president in one of over the thousand missions throughout Earth Alliance Space, the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints taking to faith the words of Matthew; _"Go ye therefore, and teach all nations."_ The President had declared over a decade ago that 'nation' meant anywhere where Humanity resided, and missions were sent to colonies, space stations, outposts, and providences. Of the dozens of worlds and hundreds of colonies throughout Earth Alliance Space and the Attican Traverse, young missionaries went out to the stars to fulfill their volunteer work by spreading the word of their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, as well as engaging in community services and humanitarian aid efforts.

That's where the _other_ missionaries did, at least.

Jane had an idea when she was thirteen years old, saving up money for her own mission as she had since she was nine. She was just old enough to start understanding the galaxy as a whole, and remembered seeing something on the news that had her wondering, wondering if she could do _that_. It was a new thing, likely never done before, and the thought of it charmed her. Oh, she told her mother and father, and they were _not_ at all pleased at hearing of the idea. But she had prepared for this, showing demographics and pics she had found, explaining her ideas that she had taken notes on to organize and hit key points. Her father, James Shepard, had done missionary work in the People's Republic of China when the government finally allowed religious missionaries to come officially without persecution back in the 2140's. Her mother, Heather Shepard, had done her missionary work in the Federal State of Alaska for the North United American States, working with the Native Inuit in several of the remote towns out in the Yukon. They had forged ahead into areas that would be difficult, where the locals would be less likely to be polite, intending to do good work to people who truly need it. In that, Jane saw them as the heroes they were; bringing the Word of Christ to people who had least likely to have encounter it, people who could use a good pair of hands to help them in their lives and their struggles. Her father was proud to say that he had started the first Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints in China along with three dozen other missionaries, building it with their own hands and bringing people to that very tabernacle. That was what _Jane_ wanted to do.

So, of course, she picked the Citadel.

It took almost three years of paperwork, preparation, more paperwork, getting licenses, saving Credits, even more paperwork, the appropriate notifications and acceptances, and finally… more paperwork. She had to write to the Systems Alliance Ministry of State for a legal passport to _leave_ Earth Alliance Space, write another to the Citadel Security Services Visitation and Immigration Section (after explaining what a missionary was), get the evangelical licenses that allowed her to _supposedly_ evangelicalize in the appropriate areas, and save up enough money to not only afford the flight to the Citadel, but to support herself for the next two years. Jane had to cram herself in school to finish her education two years early, prepare herself for Missionary Training Center, go to Worship on Sunday as well as her bi-weekly Scripture Study, watch out for her younger siblings and make sure they weren't doing anything rash, and do her thirty hours of monthly community service with the Young Women's Society to help out the mostly agrarian colony of New Edmonton (or New Eddie, for short). It was a great deal of hard work, but the young woman was proud of that; a simple road to traverse was not a road that taught one the values of walking forward, after all. She took each obstacle and difficulty in stride, finding ways to conquer each of them with proper pride and accomplishment. After almost three years of work, she had finally done it.

Seeing the other missionaries asking here her stake would be and watching their jaws drop had been… okay, it was pretty priceless to see them go _why didn't I think of that!_

The extra three weeks of training was _Cultural Studies_.

The Headquarters of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints weren't exactly thrilled that Sister Jane Shepard would be going on her own to the Citadel; no missionary partners to work with, no missionary leader who had the necessary visas and licenses to aid her in her efforts. Missionary work was suppose to be done in teams, to help each other while making sure they stayed on track and on course. She would be a pioneer; the very first. Oh, they were excited at the prospect of spreading the Gospel and Scripture of Father Smith to a location that had never been touched, men and women living on the Citadel certainly included in the ecclesiastical order _teach all nations_, but at the hands of a lone sixteen-year old woman? They had initially stalled at the thought, and Jane had sent letter after letter with different ideas and avenues into when to encourage her acceptance. She had already done much of the groundwork and paperwork on her own, and denying her would deny anyone going for an equal length of time. Finally, the President Himself made the decision after listening to the Quorum of the Twelve, giving her the green light for her missionary. That had the teen-aged woman practically giddy; all her hard work was paying off, and the _President_ approved! The Church had gotten her someone to be her missionary leader, finding a Catholic Priest who operated a small parish in the Tayseri Arm of the Citadel to help her adjust to life on the Citadel and help her with her work, one Father Simon Caldwell accepting the young Mormon Missionary and to guide her as best he could. Jane had already messaged the priest a few times to gain correspondences as well as exchanging the differences of their religious duties and how to best fit what was needed. Father Caldwell had been a priest for nearly a _century_ and had expressed his surprise and his approval at what she was doing, having done the same thing when Humanity gained the right to populate the Citadel seven years prior and making it _his_ mission to be where Man and God needed him. There would be little hiccups, of course, Catholics and Mormons not exactly having the same belief structures or scriptures, but both had promised to make it work, seeing the other for what they were; those who did the work of the Lord.

Tomorrow, Jane would be sixteen years old. And on the next day, she would be taking off to the Citadel.

"I'm going to miss you, sister."

Jane turned to see her younger brother, Matthew having just turned thirteen three days prior. He had always been in her life as far as she could remember, the bubbly little boy that, somehow when she turned around, was starting to go down that road where he would be a young man. He was already in his Boy Scouts of Humanity uniform, as impeccable as ever, working towards his Eagle Scout Badge. Jane turned from her packing and repacking to give her brother a hug, knowing that she was going to miss _so much_ when she was gone. She rested her head on his auburn locks, her own coppery curls gotten from their mother while he had gotten their fathers' darker red hair.

"I'm going to save up every hug I can and smother you with them when I return, Matty." Jane promised, holding her brother tightly as she tried not to cry. "I know you'll do good like you always done, and I want to hear all about it when I come home."

"Proud of you, _Sister_ Jane." He emphasized her new title, making her laugh/sob as she slowly, regretfully pulled away to look into her younger brother's green eyes, seeing that they were moist. She had been a part of his life every single day, no doubt an almost three-year old Jane Shepard touching her mothers' swollen abdomen at the wonder of the life held within. Until she went to Missionary Training, they had never had a day apart save for little things such as Boy Scout field trips or her own work with the Young Women's Society. Even then, it had been but for a day or two. Not weeks. Not months.

Not years.

_This is what the mission is really about,_ Jane realized as she gave her brother another hug, almost smooshing him with the fierceness. _It's not just the work of the Lord that I'm doing; it's also the work I'm doing for me._ To go off to foreign lands (or stations), to be away from the comfort of family and home, it was meant to teach missionaries those values and ethics, to reinforce what really mattered. She knew of other religions that did something similar; she recalled that the Amish would leave their communes at sixteen and be obligated to live in the broader world for at least two years, to return if they so desired. Now she knew why.

To learn. About herself, about creation, about the people around her. And how she could help with her own hands. To build, to help, to foster.

"Watch over the little ones while I'm gone?" Jane was trying not to tear up, but it was oh so hard. There were five of them, and somebody was always underfoot. "Jennifer's only four. Help her… help her understand?" Michael was ten and knew what Jane was going to do, the youngest brother of the Shepard family in awe of his big sister going out into the _galaxy_ to do the Lord's Good Work. While he didn't understand the all of it, he was still pretty young, he did get the gist of it. One day, it would be Matthew's turn, and then it would be Michael's. Then there was Elizabeth, whom Jane was going to miss her seventh birthday. Elizabeth was now faced with the reality that she was going to be the big sister, and when Jane had returned to Utah, Lizzy had grappled her left leg as tight as a squirrel and pleaded for her not to go. That… had been heart-wrenching. Jen-Jen had squealed with delight when Jane had returned, practically tackling her with a hug, but didn't really understand that big sister Jane was going to be gone for a long time. That had been equally as heart-wrenching.

And her parents… she could see it in the corner of their eyes, at the edges of their words. They were trying to be strong for her, for their family, but they felt it too.

_This… this is what goodbye feels like._

* * *

For her sixteenth birthday, Jane was the host to a good many people of her Church coming over to the family farmstead, all of them to both celebrate her birthday as well as congratulating her for her completion of Missionary Training as well as giving her their fond wishes towards the next journey of her life. Unlike most people, those of the Church didn't shower children with an abundance of gaudy gifts or flashy trinkets to turn them into semi-electronic zombies. Yes, she got presents, mostly of the practical variety that included good cloths for when she was at the Citadel, the digital download credit for the Tabernacle Choir release (which Jane heard was exquisite), a basic Samsung Electronics' Universe-S DataPadd so she could write to her family, and several donations of funds to help her on her mission to the Citadel.

Over two hundred members come bringing food and well-wishes while children of all ages came to play and celebrate, and the now-sixteen year old realized this was one of the happiest days of her life; they had all come for her because of her accomplishments at such a young age, encouraging her to continue on as she braved a direction further than any of them had ever gone. There were many who spoke of their missionary work with pride, of the locations they went to and the work they accomplished, some back when there was only Earth and the Sol colonies, others back during the Golden Age of Expansion, and several who had been part of the Shanxi Reconstruction right after the First Contact War, rebuilding the colony after the devastating war with the newly-discovered Turians. Many expressed their awe at her tenacity at getting approval of the Citadel, the Church members already knowing that it had taken a couple of years to get all the necessary paperwork and approvals in order to succeed. The Bishop of her ward, Bishop Eric Clancy, shook her hand and told her how proud he was of her, for braving new frontiers both in the galaxy and within herself. The celebration lasted many hours as many families came to see her off in the next big step in her life, and to wish her a good and productive journey.

Then, the day came.

It was April 12th on the Earth Gregorian Calender, and together Jane's entire family got into the family ground car and made the drive to Victoria City fifty kilometers away, where the Mindoir Interstellar Spaceport was located. Seven year old Lizzy had held Jane the whole time, knowing what was going to happen and refusing to let go. Jen-Jen had babbled happily in her child safety seat, finding the trip exciting while both of her brothers Matthew and Michael were uncharastically silent; they knew better than Lizzy, and the boys were struggling to put on brave faces for their younger sisters. With the exception of little Jen-Jen, the trip was silent for the adults and the children save the youngest, Mom and Dad practically squeezing each others' hands as James Shepard drove the ground car down the paved highway, that brave, brave man holding it in that his oldest child, that little girl that stole his breath and heart away when she was but minutes old in his hands, was going to be gone. Heather Shepard was almost a sobbing wreck, holding it in like a cracked dam, remembering feeling the utter joy she had felt when she had gotten an official pregnancy test at a Doctor's Office to confirm that she was in fact pregnant, that first flutter in her growing woman that represented a baby's movement, the trials of labor that were so richly rewarded at the sight of her squalling newborn baby daughter given to her.

Everyone in the ground car wished that they could stop time. Except Jen-Jen, too young and too happy to know.

The Spaceport came all too soon, and Jane could feel it, her resolve crumpling, the fear beating out the excitement, the two long years without the parents she had for her entire life and the brothers and sisters she couldn't imagine being without. The structure was like a gateway to eternity, to take her so far away as to where she could never return, and she was faltering. Getting out of the ground car, her luggage in her hand, it was all she could do as to not break down and cry. That dam exploded when she found herself holding her father, sobbing into his chest, ready to beg him to take her back, that she wasn't ready.

Then he spoke.

"I remember when I left," James Shepard said to his oldest child, his own eyes wet with tears as he soothed her coppery curls. "Now I know how my parents must have felt, so ready to whisk me away, to hold me on a little bit longer. I cried on that flight to China, missing my Mom, my Dad, my brother and two sisters within the hour, only thinking of the years away. But I arrived, and I found myself with friends and work, and that help eased the ache." Jane pulled away to look up to her father. "Soon I was helping out, visiting folks who needed help, help fixing and building, and soon we were building a church for people to come and visit when the government had suppressed such activities for so long. I learn, I grew, I met people less fortunate than I and I realized just how lucky I was to have such a loving, caring family that supported me and missed me. And then I got to show people how that felt like, helping by teaching them values of family, of commitment, of community service and bringing morals back to where they belonged, starting at home. I missed my family, but I helped made new ones in return, watching them coming together a little bit closer, helping them improve by showing them what a strong family could bring." Her father smiled, and despite the tears, she could see that he was proud of her. "You will cry, you will miss us as we miss you, and yet here you are on the first steps of your life, being a pioneer, helping bring change and work to a portion of the galaxy no one else has ever considered. I have no doubt it will be long and hard, and there will be days and weeks where it will feel like you're changing nothing. But believe in yourself, and soon that will catch, and others will believe in you, too.

"I'm proud of you, Jannie. I love you with all my heart, and watching you walk into that Spaceport will be the hardest thing I will have ever done. But know that I do so because _I believe in you_." He whispered to her, his words for her and her alone. She hugged her father fiercely, threatening his ribs with that hug, and he never said a word. He would remember how fiercely she had hugged him, she as she would remember how gently he held her, his precious little girl about to become a woman amongst the stars.

Her mother's tearful goodbyes had been even harder, somehow.

"I knew this day would come, and Lord help me if everything I thought I could do to prepare myself for this didn't just get swept away." Heather Shepard said sobbing, holding Jane just as fiercely as she held her father. "I just want to turn back time to the day I first held you in my hands, to that little girl who kept bringing in stray animals to feed, the little Girl Scout who went door-to-door to raise money for disaster relief, that first day of school when the bus took you away and I sobbed like a little girl myself." Jane had no words, so she used hugs instead, holding her slightly-shorter mother tightly. "Here you are, so brave and ready and I'm just… just so… _proud_…" Her mother sobbed, "…there isn't a word to express it just how happy I am for you. You fought for this and fought for it and never took no for an answer. Now you're going to where you want to go, to do the work you want to do, walking where no one else has. My precious baby girl's all grown up and… I'm just as happy as I am sad, I want that little girl back as much as I want to see you return triumphant, a woman in your own right."

"I love you, Momma." Jane couldn't say anything else 'lest she breakdown again. But she knew what her mother meant; it hurt to see her go, but she _wanted_ to see her get that chance to show what she was worth, to show what she could do. To prove herself, her mother had to let her child go, like the mother bird helping its baby fly from the nest, granting them the wings of freedom. "You'll be proud of me, I swear."

"I already am, sweetheart."

Her brother, Matthew.

"I'll send letters every week." Her brother promised, the thirteen year old fighting his own tears as he hugged her hard, Jane cradling him fiercely in return. "And… I'll read yours to Jen-Jen so she knows her big sister is thinking of her." That almost broke the dam again. "When you get back, you can tell me all about it, and… and… I be ready for mine." Jane felt her heart skip at that; Matthew would be fifteen by the time she returned, less than a year from his own missionary work. Four years apart from little boy so threatening to become a man right before her eyes.

"Then make sure you help Mom and Dad, especially for the next few weeks." Family was important, and this was going to be hard on all of them. "Lean on them when you need it, and be there for them when they need it."

"I will, I promise.

Michael.

"I don't know what to say." Michael was practically ready to bawl as Jane knelt to hug her youngest brother, the ten year old boy struggling with something so profound, just like everyone else. "You're not even gone and I miss you already. I love you, Jane. You're the best big sister ever, and I can't wait for your letters."

"I love you too, Mikey, and don't be afraid to venture out yourself, to show what you're made of." Jane smiled as she brushed back his unruly mop of coppery hair. "You were always the bravest, always full-steam ahead when you were a little boy, always wanting to be the first up a hill or around a corner, always exploring. You're going to do great things, too." She gave him a kiss on his forehead, making him sob.

Elizabeth.

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO!" The seven year old girl burst into tears, rushing her and hugging her so hard that Jane almost couldn't breath. "YOU CAN'T GO!" Lizzy was sobbing wildly as Jane felt her own tears leak down her cheeks as she held her little Lizzy, cradling her and soothing her by rocking her from side-to-side, the little girl inconsolable. Mom ended up taking over, hoisting up Lizzy as she sobbed, the sixteen year old having to wipe away her own tears as she bid her younger sister goodbye.

Jennifer.

"You're… going?" Jen-Jen asked, evidently catching on thanks to Lizzy's tantrum. The little girl looked confuse and bewildered. "Where are you going, Jannie?"

"I'm going to the Citadel, sweetheart. I'm going because there are people here who need help, and I'm going to help them." Jane told the youngest Shepard child in a tone that was more accustomed for young children, comforting and reassuring.

"Are you coming back?" Those blue eyes were catching on. Leaving meant goodbye, and her auburn-haired sister was a little too young to grasp it all but the simple concept.

"Yes, honey, I'm coming back." Jane replied with a catch in her throat, knowing it would be impossible to explain it to a four year old in a way they would understand. "Can… can you show me six, sweetheart? Can you show me six fingers?" Jen-Jen held up both hands, showing all five digits with one hand, and her forefinger with the other. "W-when you're that old, that's when I-I'm coming back." She could hear her own voice cracking as she did her best to explain it to her youngest sister. Jen-Jen contemplated this for a moment and showed her six fingers one more time.

"Am I this old yet?" Jennifer Shepard asked innocently, those blue eyes pleading.

The dam broke.

* * *

On April 12, 2170, a Sukhoi Spacejet 400 Civilian Transportation Spacecraft left the Mindoir Interstellar Spaceport under the auspices of six pairs of tearful eyes as they watched the spaceflight-capable vessel launch itself into the atmosphere while a singular set of eyes looked out through a viewport, a loving hand pressed against the alumniglas as its owner sniffled and sob as her home shrank before her very eyes, the journey begun. The young woman in seat 27D sat back in her seat, wiping away the tears as she tried to control her emotions, so much rolling through her at once after a long tearful goodbye with her family. The day she had been looking forward to for _years_, and now that the day was here, all she could do was think of home. The vessel shook as it left the atmosphere, the Captain letting the passengers know that they would be allowed to move about the cabin now that they had past Mindoirs' atmosphere, able to use their trays and electronic devices. The young redheaded woman in seat 27D opened up her carry-on bag and reached inside, and pulled out, of all things, a physical book, bound in leather. She looked to its soft spine, where the gold embossed words of the four books it contained were presented to her, word she knew by heart. Several cloth ribbons were placed within the books' many pages, marking out sections she thought she would need. She flipped to the first ribbon, which marked the Book of Job; certainly a start pertaining to trials and tribulations in which a man was to reaffirm his faith in God despite the maladies he suffered.

"God, I haven't seen a physical book in ages." The older gentleman next to the young woman said from his seat, looking over to her tray as she read. "I don't think I've seen someone under the age of fifty ever crack one open. Good for you." There was approval in his tone, obviously one of the older generation seeing one of the younger one doing something right. "What are you reading?" He asked, curious, making polite talk.

The young woman looked to the man, and put on a smile that they taught her in Missionary Training Center, the one that was friendly and sincere, to be inviting.

"Would you like to know more about the Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints?" Sister Jane Catherine Shepard asked with a smile.

* * *

Author's Note: I remember when I went to Basic Training, we weren't allowed to call home or whatnot for the first couple weeks (Red Phase having the most restrictions). The first time we got phone privileges about four weeks in, we got fifteen minute phone calls. I remember calling and my Dad picking up and I probably didn't say ten coherent words; I bawled like a little girl. Not because Basic was horrible (tough, certainly, but nothing horrible or unexpected) but because every other time in my life I could have visited and seen my parents when I wanted, only living a few miles away when I moved out. There's probably nothing less manly than seeing a twenty-year old man crying, but I was most certainly not the only one to be that way. I remember how precious it felt to get a hand-written letter.

Traditionally, Missionary work is done at the ages of 19-21, though it can be done later. It's highly suggested that you be unmarried and without children (both, not multiple choice), and that the men do two years while the women do eighteen months. I have probably seen a hundred male missionaries… and exactly _two_ female ones, which shocked me because I literally had no idea that Mormon ladies did missionary work.

Most of my facts were gleaned from the great library of Wikipedia. The facts about Salt Lake City, the Missionary Training Center, the books a missionary would carry, and a general idea of what a missionary will learn in Provo are, as far as I'm aware, factually correct. I did change/futurize some things (forgoing the 9-week language immersion class in lieu of an Universal Translator) but opted for a Cultural Study course for _foreign_ interaction.

Yes, missionaries do fund their own missions. Yes, the Church (be it ward or stake) does help out, but the LDS Church is pretty big on personal responsibility. As well as families, personal health, community service, charity, and values. I do highlight some of their values and ethics in this story. It's really not that embellished.

This is a work of fiction. Public commentary and constructive criticism about this story is supported; bashing, trolling, and venting are not.


	2. The Fault In Our Stars, I

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith._

_I should probably blame __Shootingstar7123's__ "__**Origins**__" for making me ram face-first into this idea when I should have been working._

**Public Spacedock, Tayseri Enders, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 15, 2170**

"_Our Lord and Savior walked the Holy Land to spread His word. He could have went to Rome, where the weight of the Caesars were. He could have gone to Athens, where temples and statues and democracy lived. He could of gone to the Nile where the birth of one of the greatest civilizations existed. He could have gone to the sands of Persia, the mountains of Asia Minor, to distant Gaul or the lands of the Goths where the Roman Empire did not hold sway. No, our Lord remained in Jerusalem, the city firmly under the oppressive thumb of Roman Empire and its Caesars, where the decadent ruled and the common man was grounded into dust. His life was in danger, and yet He did not flee, did not sway, and of all the Kingdoms and Lands of Earth, it was Jerusalem in which He stayed. His people needed Him, and He walked amongst them. They needed help, and He aided. They were sick, and He healed. They were hungry, and He fed. Always was He in danger, and yet He never left._

"_Why? It was the Center of the Known Universe. It was where _WE_ needed Him to be." - Jane Catherine Shepard, 2170_

* * *

_**Start ARC I: The Fault In Our Stars**_

* * *

"_Good evening, passengers, this is your Captain speaking. We have arrived at the Citadel, and will be taxiing into the dock at this time. The arrival luggage carousel will be Carousel 14, and connecting flights will be displayed upon the Departure Kiosk. Thank you for flying Sukhoi Skyways, and welcome to the Center of the Known Universe."_

The Sukhoi Spacejet 400 Civilian Transportation Spacecraft taxied into the magnetic clamps that collected the vessel into its cradle as steam rose from the vessels' hull from massive dethermalization as the spacecraft went from the near-absolute zero of space to the constant twenty-two degrees Celsius of the Citadel Proper, attenuated for the many species that existed in the Center of the Known Universe; acceptable to many, perfect for none. The taxiing process took approximately twenty minutes as the Sukhoi reseted in its magnetic cradle as it was lowered to the level of the docks, air pressure reversed to sweep away the billows and plumes of steam coming from the vessels' iridium-laced alumnisteel hull as the vessel itself was scanned for any possible 'additions' that might have attached itself to the spaceship, from solar radiation-bleeding space debris to possibly some extralegal personage trying to stowaway upon the Cit without going through Customs. A retractable umbilical snaked its way to the main airlock of the vessel, sealing itself to the rapidly-cooling hull as pressure was equalize between vessel and Citadel, a slight difference in air pressure from Earth-Norm and Cit-Norm. Finally, the spacecrafts' automated systems disengaged the pressure seal of the Spacejet as the internal and external airlock opened after equalization. Three hundred passengers were finally allowed to leave their assigned seats, picking up bags set under their seats or pulling them out from overhead compartments. Three hundred people either visiting or moving to the Citadel, the Center of the Known Universe, in which many claimed that all things flowed forth from, like Yggdrasil of Old.

Amongst them was a young redheaded human woman wearing a conservative flower-print dress that went from collar to shins, with a white tag pinned just under her left lapel.

The passengers disembarked in order, fitting through the door and down the umbilical with their carry-on luggage, filing out and into the Public Spacedocks of the Tayseri Enders, the end of the Tayseri Arm that was one of five of the Citadel. Many left the umbilical and to the docks searching out the crowds for the faces of friends or loved ones, or perhaps business companions to greet. Others kept moving on, heading towards destinations that weren't interrupted by the meeting and greeting of others. Still here were others who walked out of the spacecraft and found themselves looking up, up, up towards the ceiling and beyond, where the Shalta/Aroch Arm and the Zakera Arm hung overhead ten kilometers away, with a band separating in between that showed the magenta and turquoise hues of the Serpent Nebula, decorated with the diamond sparkling of stars. One young woman looked up, her breath catching at her throat at the sight of a ceiling in which people lived upon, seeing the lengths of those forty-four kilometer-long Arms in which millions of sapients resided and called work and home, what many called the Center of the Known Universe. Her eyes followed the arms to the strange horizon that was defined by the large circle that was the Presidium Rings, almost forty-one kilometers in circumference itself. She knew, having been told, that each Arm was over five and a half kilometers wide at the base, slowly tapering until it reached the Enders; the end of the Arm, in which it came to a point.

The young redheaded woman had looked it up while at the Missionary Training Center; the Citadel was almost eight hundred and fifty squared kilometers at the ground.

A few jostling passengers and good-natured grumbling steered her back on her course at the young woman in the flower-print dress disembarked from the terminal, walking down the Concourse that would lead to Baggage Claim, and then Customs. Her necessary and proper documentation was in her carry-on bag, a satchel-styled backpack that she had looped over both shoulders as she found herself walking down the long corridor of the Concourse where she could see small businesses and kiosks catering to travelers and those seeing to those coming and going. She was a little shocked by the amount of Starbucks' Coffee stands that seemed to exist, passing by three before she reached Baggage Claim; those things really were everywhere! Small delicatessens offering light snacks were there as well, though in a variety of cultural dishes in which the young woman had to guess the origins. One shoppe seemed to offer a sort of seafood wrap that was centered on Asari cuisine if the name Thessian SeaFare was any indication. She took a curious look at the pre-made wraps on display behind the duraglas display case that doubled as the counter, and was chased off by the Asarikin teller manning the establishments' register, shouting that the food wasn't meant for _mortals_. The redheaded human fled the scene a little disappointed; she was on the Citadel, and she wanted to see some of the different cultures and ideas, to be amazed and to learn.

She continued down to Baggage Claim, noting that the population was mostly Turian, with smatterings of Asarikin, Salarian, and Batarian, and then smaller numbers of Elcor, Volus, Human, Hanar, and even a couple of Drell. At one point in time, she was certain she spotted a Quarian shuffling into a location so as not to be noticed, and that broke her heart. She knew of their reputation, but she also knew of her _own_ reputation as a Mormon. Most Humans weren't too thrilled with the Latter-Day Saints for reasons that were generally not very accurate, usually hearsay based on other ignorant opinions. She resolved to give Quarians the benefit of the doubt; they had been kicked out of their homes and left to wander, something a Latter-Day Saint would understand. She reached the automated turnstile where checked-in luggage would slide out of a chute and drop onto a motorized belt, spinning around the carousel prosaically. It took a few moment before the young Human woman was able to collect her two pieces of check-in luggage, filled with clothes and necessities for her stay. After slipping on on top of the other by slipping a strap through the extendable travel handle, the young redheaded woman headed out of the Baggage Claim area…

…and Sister Jane Catherine Shepard found herself walking her very first steps onto the Center of the Known Universe, the Citadel.

* * *

The Citadel Security Services' (C-SEC) Customs and Immigration Division had been a two-hour hassle as any and all who disembarked on-board would have to stand in line to pass Customs by having their effects screened for contraband as well as themselves. Unfortunately, the Cit received _ten of thousands_ of visitors at each of its six starports, and all of them had to pass through Customs. The line was a long one filled with hundred who were filtered through the dozen C-SEC Agents that took on a singular sapient regardless if they came as a group (the species equivalent of newborns and toddlers were the exception to that) as each person filed through to the next available Agent as the queue moved through.

Jane found herself in line in between a Turian male dressed in a somber-colored robe and a Salarian… male?, who was in robe-like attire himself, complete with a hood that went over his head and the horns that she had been told represented Salarian ears. The hundreds of sapients that stood in line were casually impatient, and she heard dozens of voices in native languages that she couldn't understand, the Universal Language Translator that she wore on her right ear would only work if a sapient were directly looking at her and addressing her. The Turian male in front of her was talking to someone over his OmniTool, the device glowing holographically over his wrist and forearm as he spoke in a flanged voice, his words sounding like a series of deep chirps and short whistles as he spoke to the person on the other side of the call, unable to understand a word he said. The Salarian behind her, too, was on his OmniTool, tapping away diligently on a Haptic keyboard, likely texting (no, it was called 'chirping', here) that he had arrived on the Citadel safe and sound. Jane was of course allowed _limited_ correspondences with her family back home, but the idea of doing missionary work was to have a missionary go out in the world and help those in need, not bury their faces in electronic opiates and distractions. One part of the mission was the work that the missionary did _for_ themselves, after all. Once she made it past Customs and met with Father Simon Caldwell, she would send a small EN-Mail to her parents and family to know that she had arrived and that she was doing well. It wasn't like she possessed an OmniTool, herself.

The line moved forward. Slightly.

Jane took the opportunity to study her surroundings, to look at the many faces and people of the Citadel, as well as the architecture itself. It was really amazing to think that the Citadel itself was at least fifty-thousand years old, built by the progenitor spacefaring race known as the Protheans, in which the Citadel, the Mass Relays, the Mars Archives, and many ruins and finds were their galactic contributions. As Jane understood it, the many religions of Earth had a bit of a hiccup when discovering that there had been indeed an ancient alien spacefaring race, likely observing them during one of the last Ice Ages. Many on Earth faltered with their faiths as many secular organizations crumpled with the knowledge, people no longer believing in their version of a Lord or Heaven, believing that Science was correct; that the Universe had been born in an act of an explosion instead of Creation. Thankfully, a prior President and the Quorum before the discovery of the Mars Archives had gone over the possibility when Mankind began making colonies on Earth's sister planets in the Sol System, and believed that if the Lord had created one race, why couldn't He have made multiple ones? There were multiple races, religions, creeds, beliefs, governments, and nations. Multiple people was simply just the addition to the beauty of Creation, another way to understand and enjoy all that He had given and provided.

The line moved forward. Slightly.

The area that Customs was in didn't look too far out of place for one one might find on Earth or one of her daughter colonies, Jane thought as she looked at the holographically-placard line that suggested the winding route so as to maximize on numbers while efficiently using space, a snaking line that went back and forth in several turnbuckles. There were lightboard signs that hovered in the air in languages in several languages… yet none of them were in her native Standard Alliance English. There was no Earth International French, either. She frowned at that, wondering how a Human was suppose to know what the signs said?

The line moved forward. Slightly.

The Turian male in front of her was done with his call, and Jane decided that it would be polite to ask. She politely tapped the Turians' arm to get his attention, and the robed Palavenian turned slightly to look at her with his steel-colored plated face and his mouth mandibles, seafoam green eyes staring at her with an expression she didn't quite get.

"I apologize, sir. I was wondering what these signs said." Jane identified by pointing out one of the trigraphical lightboard signs being emitted by a holographic projection unit embedded in some surface, likely the ceiling. "I'm afraid none of them are in English or French, and I don't have any translation software to read them on me at the time." She offered him a polite smile, hoping that he would understand it. At the least her words were polite.

"Don't _vracking_ touch me, monkey." The ULT in her right ear spoke in a digital voice after the Turian chirped in his flanged voice, translating the words if not his tone or indication. She wasn't sure what '_vracking_' meant (it hadn't been translated), but considering his words, Jane doubted it was polite or proper for public usage.

"Yes, sir. I apologize." The young woman replied, feeling her heart stutter a little. She had been warned that the Palavenian race displayed hostility towards Humanity after the First Contact War by her teachers at the Missionary Training Center, but they had also said that that it wasn't likely all of them. She was expecting _some_ scorn or perhaps some name calling, but the Turian in question was a good deal more vicious than what she had expected. Especially when she had been polite.

The line moved forward. Slightly.

"_Churl weehp ddor fval to_ doing here?" The Turian asked.

"I'm sorry, sir." Jane said. "But my translator only works if you're looking at me and talking to me." She explained to the Turian male, hoping that perhaps he had recognized that he was being rude and was making up for it. "I think it reads lips so I'm not bombarded with a dozen conversations I can't pick out from." The ULT was a common model, and didn't differentiate between distance, direction, or personages. If two people were talking to her, the same voice would translate both sentences on top of one another, making it impossible to tell who was saying what since it was located only in her right ear, and her brain wouldn't be able to triangulate the voices like it would normally with Humans. Plus the translator only had one voice and one tone; a digitized British female voice, monotone.

"I asked what you are doing here." The Turian repeated himself, his jaw moving up and down, and his mandibles moving both vertically and horizontally with his words. Jane found it fascinating.

"Well, sir. My name is Sister Jane Shepard, and I've come to the Citadel to fulfill my obligations to my Church by completing my mission here-"

"No." The Turian interrupted, his face plates shifting, and his mandibles quivering. That was likely a facial expression. "I meant what are you doing here."

"The… Customs line, sir?" Jane asked a little dubiously, not sure if her translator was functioning correctly. It should be pretty obvious why she was standing in a Customs line with carry-on and checked-in baggage along with everyone else.

"You're _vracking_ kind doesn't belong here, _krrv_."

Shepard realized that she was standing in line with a rather active, rather hostile, good deal taller and _pointier_ alien being that had a grudge against Mankind. She was a little aware that the others around them had gotten a sense that something was happening as few looked in the direction of the Turian male and the shorter Human female.

The line moved forward. They didn't.

"Get out of line, _krrv._" The Turians' voice was translated into a British-accented feminine voice, synthesized and monotone. It didn't convey the seriousness of the situation at all. "Before I _s'kak_ you out like I did your _zyre_, monkey." This was turning ugly as the Turian loomed over her, looking quite dangerous. Jane fought off the fear that had her heart racing as she turned towards the Salarian male behind her, still typing away at his OmniTool.

"Sir, you can have my spot in line." Jane told the Salarian, his dark eyes moving from the miniature holographic screen hovering over his wrist to her, oblivious as to what was going on. He merely nodded his head and moved forward ahead of her, putting a barrier in between herself and the Turian. Perhaps the male Palavenian didn't want to stand next to a Human, and the more distance the better. She was having the same idea, herself. The Salarian was _still_ typing at his OmniTool, completely oblivious as to what was going on.

"I'd didn't say move back in line. I said get out of line." The British-lady told her monotone, really not fitting the situation as the Turian was fully facing her, insulated only by a distracted Salarian male. Others around them in a variety of species were watching on, no one saying anything (not that she would be able to understand them) as Jane gulped a little bit. She was a sixteen year old girl looking at a _much_ taller full-sized Turian male. She wasn't going to be winning this fight. The Salarian finally seemed to realize what was going on as he switched arms, going from his sunburst-orange OmniTool on his thin left arm to the cobalt-blue one on his right as he raised it and activated it, pressing something. Jane, much to her amazement, heard a cartoon-like chime as she saw the Turians' sunburst-orange OmniTool activate on his own and gain what looked to be some sort of… red card-shaped icon hovering right over it. The Turian looked to his OmniTool, staring at it as his mandibles flared open as wide as a birds' wings in flight, and she heard the Salarian say something in Salarian (she couldn't catch it). The Turian stiffened up immediately and faced the direction of the line, moving forward in the queue to take up the gap that had been created when he antagonized her, and didn't look back or say a word at all. Everyone else seemed to return to their own musings rather sharply, too.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" Jane asked the Salarian she let cut in front of her, tapping on his arm politely. He had gone back to his typing on his left arm on the orange OmniTool, and she remembered that the other one had been blue. That was the first time she had seen that color on the few OmniTools she had ever seen. "I apologize, sir. I'm new here and… what happened? What did you do to his OmniTool?" She whispered to keep her words from antagonizing the Turian that was separated only by a Salarian male that had obviously done _something_.

"You did not hear what I said?" The Salarian asked curiously, and then his dark, dark eyes snapped over to the ULT she wore over her right ear. "Ah, a basic model. You are most certainly new." His eyes snapped to her. "I put a marker on his CitIdent."

"A… C-SEC marker?" Jane asked, remembering that from her Missionary Training classes. Citadel Security Services were the be-all, end-all of law enforcement on the Citadel, something in between the United North American States' Federal Bureau of Investigations, the UNAS Marshals, EuroPol, the Global Drug Enforcement Agency… they were simply the planetary-level police of the Citadel, with many departments and jurisdictions to define their mission and responsibilities. What made them effective was that it was all under one overall organization with clear-cut boundaries on who handled what, and could easily be passed off to another department or division if something was discovered that pertained to another jurisdiction, such as an arrest made where a sapient had contraband narcotics, or a white-collared criminal with an illegal weapon. C-SEC was considered one of the most professional, most effective law enforcement agencies in the galaxy. A C-SEC marker was something in between a warning and a point system for minor non-crime infractions. One could land you in hot water with ones' own government. Accumulate enough, and one would be kicked off-station, sent to jail, or whatever the offense required. Gaining one was strongly dissuaded, and someone like herself could find her visa and passport confiscated quickly since she was only a temporary resident. A permanent resident could find themselves evicted, without home or employment. It wasn't a trifling matter. Jane made the connection. "You're a C-SEC Agent, Officer?"

"Inspector, actually." The thin lipless mouth replied, tugging upward at the corners. A smile, perhaps?

"Well, thank you, Inspector. And thank you for your service." Jane stuck out her hand to shake. The Salarian looked at it, his head snapping slightly to one side. "We shake hands as a form of greeting." The redhead offered. "I'm afraid I don't know any Salarian greetings. I don't think we knew any when I took cultural studies classes."

"Of course." The Salarian's left hand grabbed her right forearm, and he proceeded to 'shake' her hand, empty-handed. Jane tried not to laugh as she coaxed the Salarian's right hand forward, grasping his three-fingered hand with her own five-digit right hand and 'shook' it properly. "I must admit, this is the first time anyone has ever thanked me for being a member of C-SEC."

"Why? You protect and serve, helping keep the community safe, deter violence and criminality, and perform an important duty." Jane replied as she returned the Salarian's hand to him. "But I have to ask; why are you in line? They don't have a bypass for Officers or Inspectors?"

"No." The redhead sensed that she probably missed the scorn in that answer.

"That's silly. That means there's probably a dozen C-SEC Agents in this line who are having their valuable time wasted standing in a line instead of conducting investigations and patrols." Jane realized out loud, and got an Asari in the line across from the holographic turnbuckle to look at her alarmingly, obviously having her words translated and the realization dawning on the Asarikin. "Though, I guess if there was an issue, there would be plenty of C-SEC Agents who would be right here when it happened. Perhaps that's why?"

"I… never thought of it that way before." The Inspector replied, thumbing his narrow chin with his thumb. "You are certainly an interesting sapient to converse with, young Human."

"Sister Jane Shepard." She stuck out her hand again, and this time the Salarian male knew what to do. "Sister is my title, Jane my first name, and Shepard my family name." Cultural studies had said that some of the naming conventions were different amongst the others, but the teachers hadn't exactly been sure who had what in what order, so instructed her to identify her own name in such a manner so as to avoid confusion as well as letting the person speaking to her return the favor to avoid accidentally insult someone when using the wrong name in the wrong manner. "Is it okay if I buy you dinner, Inspector? You did help me, and you are a member of law enforcement." That had him cock his head again. Ah, it was a sign of either curiosity or a question amongst the Salarians, then. "It's not uncommon amongst Humanity to show their respect to members of civil services by purchasing their meals, and it would be rude not to return the favor."

"Strange to have a female cater to a male." The C-SEC Inspector hmm'ed as the line moved closer to he Customs Agents. "But you are doing what you believe to be socially acceptable by your rules, as I understand it. I accept, but I insist that I pay for my own meal, Sister Jane. That is… awkward." That was right, female Salarians were rare and in charge of the Salarian species, much like ants or bees; the progenitor and leader of a family or clan. Jane suspected that it was quite likely that Salarians were taught to serve their mothers, sisters, and nieces with devotion and propriety. "And I think a trip to a kiosk for a better quality Universal Translator might be in order, Sister. If that is the model I think it is, it will simply not suffice for even light day-to-day affairs." While Jane knew the rules to be that she should limit herself on matters of technological and electronic dependency, she was also on a space station that had dozens of languages going around. The Inspector wasn't wrong; the ULT that she had was decent for a face-to-face conversation, but if the speaker was looking away or if had their mouths covered, she wouldn't understand them. She also wouldn't get the tone or implications of the words either with a monotone translator, either, which would have helped with the rude Turian.

"That… is a good idea, Inspector." Shepard winced, hoping that a better version wouldn't be _too_ expensive. She had saved money, of course!, and she had been donated money by the members of her ward, too. But she didn't need to be spending hundreds of Credits vicariously, though this was likely to be a justifiable purchase. "I think having a more proficient eye that understands these matters a little better would be a smart move. I want something that's utilitarian, not gaudy, flashy, or expensive."

"Hmm, I think I know just the thing, young Sister." The Salarian smiled. "That is, of course, if we don't pass away from old age before making it to the Customs Agents. I think some of the Maidens here are about to hit their Matriarchy stage." The redheaded teenager giggled at that, getting the reference for the extremely long-lived Asarikin. They had moved forward several times, but there were still many people in front of them. "May I ask what brings you to the Cit? It is obvious this is your first time."

"I am a voluntary missionary of my faith, and have come to the Citadel as the first of my Church to do so." Jane explained to the C-SEC Inspector. "I volunteered to do evangelical work, which I have the permits," she quickly added, "but also humanitar… _sapient_ aid, community services, charity drives and relief programs, and hopefully I can be able to open a location that will support Church services for any that wish to join or at least come to listen." The Salarian looked at her, blinked at her several times, seemingly studying her.

"That is… quite impressive, actually. Especially for a young Human." The Inspector replied, intrigued. "I am curious about this evangelical work that you are doing. And we evidently have plenty of time for you to tell me."

"Of course!" Missionary Training Center had covered the possibility that she might entertain _non-Human_ inquiries and curiosities, and she had a letter from the President on what to do in such circumstances; learn of their cultures and beliefs to promote equality and values, listen to their ideas as well, and keep debates constructive and friendly. The Church had a year or so to mull over the possibility of _non-Human_ converts and visitors, had talked it over, and then come to the conclusion that perhaps the Lord had, in fact, provided this opportunity to test them in a positive manner. "But if I may know your name, Inspector?"

"Ah, of course! You cannot read my uniform tag." Jane saw what looked to be a squiggle line at the center of the Salarian's robe, just below the throat. "I believe a purchase of a proper language translator is most certainly going to be beneficial to you, Sister Jane. But introductions are in order.

"Jondum Bau, Bau is my given name." The Salarian told her. "C-SEC Inspector of the Cultural Property Protection Agency." That had Jane thinking for a minute.

"You're an art detective!" Jane realized, exclaiming happily. Cultural artifacts, paintings, statues, frescoes, tapestries, and artwork were generally some of the most expensive items in Earth Alliance Space, both in physical value as well as cultural value. The many writings of Joseph Smith were guarded from theft even if they had all been copied lovingly and perfectly by many hands to spread the word of the Prophet, guarded for their significance and value to the Church and its parishioners, much like many countries did with their Constitutions, Charters, and other pieces of historical documentation. Oh, no doubt there was more to it than just art, but the idea was likely the same; Detective Jondum was the one who was called in when someone took something of cultural significance for ransom or artnapping.

"That is correct. I am impressed." The Salarian replied, nodding his head. "I admit, most seem far less impressed."

"There are famous art theft cases on Earth, Inspector Jondum. And someone did in fact steal the head of a very large and important statue known as Lady Liberty." Jane seemed to recall that the _Mona Lisa_ was also stolen centuries before. "Art defines a society, an era, a people. That people who would take it for money or just plain selfishness is just… I can't think of a worse term than _criminal_, but that's what I feel."

"I feel that we are going to have a pleasant dinner together, Sister." The art detective smiled. "So this… evangelical work you speak of? Which Earth religion is this?"

"Would you like to know more about the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints?" Sister Jane Catherine Shepard asked her very first non-Human, feeling elated at her efforts as the line began to move forward.

* * *

Author's Notes: Yes, the title of this ARC is taken from John Green's novel "The Fault In Our Stars", which the title comes from the Shakespearean play _Julius Caesar_. I know that most who read the book/saw the movie probably thinks only of the big pink elephant of the story (that each character had cancer) but I saw more as a story about teenagers overcoming adversities through many avenues, having every chance to give up but finding reasons to continuing on. Since that is the theme of this story, I am using the title, but it will be a double-entente as most of my titles tend to be.

Alien 'foul' language will be native… and untranslated. As my first 'T'-rated work, I can completely tell you potty language without getting called on it, giving you the idea if not the word.

Citadel dimensions are factually correct; the Presidium is 7.2 kilometers in diameter, so I made the circumference with the old Pi-R-Squared to get 40.69 kilometers. Each arm is 44.7 kilometers long. To get the width, I took the circumference and divided it by 5, and then subtracted 500 meters for the cap in between at the base, getting 2.5. 8.13 kilometers minus 2.5 kilometers is 5.6 kilometers; the width of an Arm at the base with five hundred meters separating one Arm from another. Take the length (44.7) and multiply it by width (5.6) and you get 252 square kilometers. Since it is a oblong circle, or a stretched out circular-ended cone, I went with the inverse cone area, since technically I already have the circular dimension calculated. So 252 times 2/3 (or 66%) and a singular Arm is 166.35 kilometers squared. The Presidium, being 40.69 km in circumference, is half the Arm width; 1.5 km. That gives us a secondary of 5.7. That gives us a secondary circumference of 25.5 km. 40.69 - 25.5 equals 15.2 km square (donut/Stanford Torus, while the arms are an O'Neill Cylinder).

The total living space (footprint) of the Citadel is 846.95 km^2 at ground level, or 526.27 square miles. NYC is 468.5 square miles/753.97 square kilometers in comparison, making it twelve percent larger than the Big Apple (by land, not by volume).

Gee, look; Starbucks! Jannie ain't getting a cuppa joe anytime soon, though.

Thessian SeaFoam - The Asari version of McDonald's.

I'm not a hundred percent on the year that the Batarians left, but I know for a fact it was certainly after Mindoir, and pretty certain it was in between Elysium and the Skyllian Blitz. So probably 2176-2177. So Batarians are still around and not quite yet the galaxy's worst.

OmniTools are the ME version of SmartPhones. And no, Missionaries normally don't carry one. An emergency phone, yes likely (depending on location). But they are dissuaded from diving into what I stated as _electronic opiates and distractions_, which is likely in alignment to their thought.

I had fun in making the Universal Language Translator… limited. Really, the voice is Siri or that one from the TomTom or GoogleMaps that gives you directions; female, British, no inflection or tone. "Turn right in… five hundred feet. I'm sorry, did you mean Zanzibar?" (shudder)

The FanFic duel-author Chimerean has a story called "Shadows of Reality" in which one of the OC's gets into contact with Council Agent Jondum Bau… and he inquires as to why the OC looked up an art detective. You might laugh… until I tell you that the _Mona Lisa_ was stolen and missing for two years, taking from the Louvre in 1910. The largest heist in the world was the theft of art from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, Massachusetts in 1990, with over_ $500 million dollars_ of art disappearing (13 pieces, none since recovered). To give you a comparison, the largest bank robbery was $4.5 million dollars (Tacoma, Washington) and the largest armored bank car was $9.8 million dollars (New York, New York). This doesn't cover the _billions_ of dollars of theft that the Nazi's performed during their regime, in which much of the art was recovered in 2011 in the hands of a 'private' (yeah fricking right) household.

BTW, there is a reason why Jondum Bau (it wasn't random). You won't see it for a while, but pre-SPECTRE Bau had to start somewhere! You will be Bau'ed next chapter!

In Canon, Lady Liberty was brought down by the Freedom First terrorist group during the acquisition/joining of Canada/US/Mexico to make the United North American States in 2096. The head was recovered and put into the Natural Museum of American History in Washington, DC, in which it disappeared two years later during the Second American Civil War. In 2159, a leaked photograph of Liberty's head in the belly of a star freighter sparked interest, but so close after the FCW, interest quickly died out. It would not be seen again until 2185.


	3. The Fault In Our Stars, II

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith._

**Thuwubnoo's All-Family Restaurant, Block 4100 (Mid-Ward), Enders, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 15, 2170**

* * *

Inspector Mannovai Nisuses Ben Vares Tol Jondum Bau found himself engaging in what had to be the most _simulating_ dinner conversation could could remember having. And he was Salarian; he had near-perfect memory recall.

Bau was a _Chenobit_, one of a very few born to a clutch who possessed exaggerated intelligence compared to his brothers. His greater Intelligence Quotient allowed him to escape the more-menial tasks and duties that his less-intelligent brothers received when they reached of age at six. Instead, he went to the prestigious Presidium Academy of Education, thought throughout the galaxy as the finest institution of learning in existence. It was there that his incredible mind was tested, trained, challenged, and put through its paces. Five years at the galaxy's finest school had the Salarian graduating Tenth in his Peerage; an incredible feat, and one that he was proud to have accomplished amongst the five-hundred members of his peers who were likewise as intelligent and as driven as he, the only differences between them besides species being fractions of a percent in understanding, memory, deduction, and accomplishment. With such a high placement amongst the Alumni, he could have practically any job in the galaxy he wanted, and it wasn't unusual to see a member of the Alumni who graduated Twenty-Fifth or higher to become a high-ranking politician, a mega-corporation mogul, or some other career-making exploit that could send his name into the stars.

No, what thrilled him was the hunt of the canny and intelligent; to outsmart those who were deemed intelligent. Thus he became an Inspector for the Citadel Security Services' Cultural Property Protection Agency. His prey were white-collar criminals with heavy financial backing, high-end technological means, and an eye on the rare and exquisite heist that would secure an item worth millions if not _billions_ of Credits in the blackspace markets or to the discerning buyer. Let the common Turian _Hasti_-turned-Patrol Officer deal with the likes of identity thieves and account larcenists. He wanted game that involved planning, timing, intelligence, schematics, bribery, high-tech toys, and a forged alibi long enough that it would make a Sister of the Order of Retribution sweat as they tried to figure out if their precious Code pertained to the situation. He was a being of intelligence, and he delighted bringing down the criminal that thought themselves smarter than he.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he found himself surprised with what the galaxy could bring.

Sitting in front of him at the Thuwubnoo's All-Family Restaurant was Sister Jane Catherine Shepard, a child-adult (no, _young_ adult) Human female with a shock of red fur growing from her scalp that cascaded into curls, a smattering of pale brown spots all over her features, eyes so green that it made him think of home, and a joy in her voice that had him listening. He ate his dinner of _suluta_ kabobs and _vorana_ slowly, holding a conversation with the female in front of him as she ate a meal he had recommended for her, the not-really-a-Dalatrass wishing to try some of the cultural offerings that the Citadel had. He admitted that he had been a little shocked to see the Human try a Salarian dish as her first meal on the Citadel. Perhaps she wished to try, perhaps she wished to be polite, but she was certainly _nothing_ like any other Human he had ever met.

And _Void_ the female could talk! She could out-talk an _Asari_!

Not that the conversation was dull; far from it! In fact, it was utterly fascinating. She talked, she listened, she asked questions, she gave answers. Sister Jane was completely engaging in the conversation, offering much in the way of information while also asking questions about Salarian culture, Citadel culture, and a few questions about the galaxy at large. She was born on some small world in Earth Alliance Space, had only recently visited Terra to undergo what she called her 'missionary training', and was literally hours old on the Citadel itself. Not even an adult, supposedly needing a chaperon of the same gender and a hierarchal figure for guidance but without both, and evidently spending over _two years_ to get the necessary paperwork done for her visas for this trip. This young Human female was here to (in her own words) help people by volunteering her efforts to help create a series of social benefit programs catering to the 'needy' and 'those without'. She was doing this _free of charge_! It was utterly perplexing!

And yet she had told them that her 'religion' had been doing it for centuries in the very same manner.

"So is it true that Human are generally born singularly?" Bau asked, having just as much fun about learning the Human species as Jane was about Salarians. The child-adult had asked several polite questions about Salarians; what families were like, what their common 'religious' belief was, was it true that he might have a dozen brothers all of the same age? That last one had him laugh.

"Twins are quite rare. Triplets even more rare." The Human with the most interesting color of headfur confirmed, nodding. "I'm the oldest child of my family of three girls and two boys." Inspector Jondum was simply _boggled_ at the thought of so many pre-Dalatrasses running around. Who cared for them? "Matthew's thirteen, Michael's ten, Elizabeth is seven, and Jennifer is four." He already knew that Humans aged slower than Salarians (everyone aged slower than the Salarians) but hearing the differences in ages and gender was… mesmerizing. It seemed that Humanity and Turianity had that in common, having a family structure reminiscent to the Turians. In the Turian culture, it was the older sibling who looked on and out for their younger siblings.

"So you cared for your siblings once they were out from their eggs? Do older males do this to if they are the firstborn?" The Inspector asked, trying to image only a couple of siblings, and at all different ages. It was… boggling.

"Eggs?" The utensil that the Human female was using to eat her fried _glanta_ hovered in between plate and mouth as she looked at him with a rather odd expression. "Oh! We don't hatch from eggs. We're… viviparity, I believe is the term? Live birth." Bau nodded in agreement. "And yes, sometimes older males do care for their siblings in many ways, but generally it is the females that take on most of the responsibilities. While we have grown in ways of equality since our ancestors, females are still the progenitors and caretakers of the family." Yes, just like a Salarian Clan, where a Dalatrass cared for her clutch until they turned six. And then it would be up to the Dalatrass of that clutch to take over the responsibilities of their Dowager while her brothers tended to her. "I imagine that is true for most every species in the galaxy. It was rare that a male of any species would be seen as the caretaker, but Earth's Emperor Penguin comes to mind; an arctic flightless bird where the males would cradle the younglings' eggs between their feet and have their bellies hang over it for warmth and protection, shuffling along with the baby penguin resting between their legs. I'm sure there's a few species out there that are unique in some fashion." Bau had to admit that this was true, there were evolutionary quirks and oddities on just about every planet and ecosystem. "And I have to say, this is a really good dish. How did you say the name? Jar-lett-el?" The young Human woman actually attempted to say it in Sur'lang. Oh, her Universal Translator was only on one of her ear analogues (floppy things that were beside her skull instead of on top; odd), so she could actually hear his native tongue.

"_Jarelttell_." He said it slowly so she could mimic it better, and nodded in satisfaction when she copied the word in a much better fashion, though her accent was… cute. "Without going into details, it is a dish of _koosha_ meats, tuber vegetables, spices, herbs, and bugs." Some got testy if one described what they were told what they were eating, so the Inspector kept it simple. _Jarelttell_ was a common dish amongst Salarians, and one that Asari found appetizing, which was why he recommended it to Sister Jane.

"Bugs." The copper-furred Human child-adult said slowly, chewing her food thoughtfully when he told her, nodding as her eyes seemed to go up for a moment while chewing slowly as if looking at the ceiling before looking back to him. Bau was inclined to think that bugs were probably not a part of the normal Human diet. "Actually," Sister Jane swallowed her food rather heroically, "my brother Matthew, he's in the Boy Scouts of Humanity, had to take a survival test where one of the prerequisites was foraging for food; berries, nuts, fruits, that kind of thing. He… may have dug at the ground and pulled out about a dozen or so worms to gross out the other boys." There was a smirk on the females' face.

"What's wrong with worms?" Bau asked, curious. That just sent his dinner companion into a peel of laughter.

* * *

To help her find a better Universal Language Translator, Sister Jane Shepard let herself be led by Inspector Jondum Bau, the Salarian C-SEC Cultural Property Protection Agent chatting amicably with her while the young woman returned the favor when he took her to a nearby electronics store in what he called the 'Outer Tract' of the Citadel; evidently there were sections on the Citadel in relation to the distance away from the Presidium, the great Rings that were Stanford Torus. Shepard kept note of the names, remembering that the 'Enders' were the very end of the Cit, and the 'Outer Tract' seemed to be the next section closer, what was the 3600-4000 Blocks. Then there were the five levels of each arm; Skyward, Upper Ward, Mid-Ward, Lower Ward, and the Scows. Jane could see four of the Wards from where she was in the 4000 Block (Lower Wards), being able to see the Mid-Wards two-hundred and fifty meters upward, not extending as far out as the Lower Wards. It was true of the Upper Wards and the Skyward, the width of the Wards more narrow the higher one went. The Scows, evidently, were a completely subterranean level that went from one side of the arm to the other, not interrupted by the long, narrow section in between the separate Lower Wards on either side where vegetation and a literal narrow lake resided, known as the Tayseri Lake. There were skybridges that connected one side to the other where air cars flew above and below the covered walkways that conjoined the separated Lower Wards, Mid-Wards, and Upper Wards, generally turning three access ways into a thick tunnel that spanned over the kilometer-long lake area. The Citadel was like nothing Jane had ever seen before, not even in pictures of Earth. Turbolifts connected the vertical ascents to the Wards, CitTrams ran horizontally along the Arms to take sapients further in or out in relation to the Blocks, and each Block Section was like a world unto itself; five kilometers long, three and a half kilometers deep (for the Lower Wards), and two hundred meters high.

This was the world she had signed up for for her missionary work, and Jane was absolutely astounded by the sheer magnitude of it!

Walking alongside the much taller Salarian male, the Inspector took her to a shop that he said had good quality products at good quality prices. They had been traveling down 'the Boulevard'; the main throughway that butted the lake and garden area, what Bau called 'the Shoreside District', which made sense since it butted a body of water. The Boulevard was evidently a major throughway that doubled as a pedestrian expressway (complete with movable parallel mobility sapient carriers known as 'AutoWalks') and a really long shopping mall. Most of the buildings that butted the Boulevard had storefronts to them, and there were even secondary levels along the buildings to represent a second, third, forth, and _fifth_ level that merely stuck out about ten meters or so, connecting the buildings like a large extendable balcony with more stores accessible for them. Jane had never been to a mall or galleria before, but she had seen such in pics and vids, large shopping structures created to compartmentalize many businesses oriented towards commerce and shopping needs. This was like that, save it was one-sided and supposedly went forty-four kilometers! She couldn't even begin to imagine all the stores that were possible!

So Inspector Jondum took her to Solar Electronics.

The store was attached to a tall multi-story building that the C-SEC Agent told her was actually a structure that held multiple businesses, some occupying a floor, some a portion of a floor, and others multiple floors, while the 'outside' perimeter of the building would be dedicated to businesses and needs to those who traveled past or worked in the structure itself. Jane could certainly see several eateries of a variety of kinds, some tailored to specific species (she saw another SeaFoam) while others were multi-species friendly (one, evidently, was called Mixed Fruit). There were a wide variety to the stores, seemingly with no thought of what business would be next to it, a quick-serving restaurant next to a clothing company next to a software department store. A 'pet' store had her attention for a moment, recognizing none of the species available but realizing that, yes, people had pets on the Cit. Solar Electronics was buttressed between what appeared to be a second-hand clothing store and an Asari-oriented tea house (Bau pointed out the written language and called it Thessian hierogrammatics). The electronics store itself was of a fair size, occupying what appeared to be two business spaces in comparison to some of the others the redhead had seen walking alongside the Salarian, with a transparent glass store front, several display tables featuring whatever current and popular model datapads, work stations, OmniTools, personal computing devices, and VI software were available. She was… boggled at it all. The electronics store in New Edmonton was a quarter of its size and a tenth of its quantity in selection.

"Welcome to Solar Electronics." A Salarian (likely male) approached them wearing a robe that was colored red with gold trim and undersiding along the arms, flanks, and on the side of the skirt-like legs. "I am Tann. How may I help?" It was still strange to hear everyone's voice in the same dull monotone British female's voice, making everyone sound the same despite different species and likely pitch of voice. There was a sort of nametag on the robe that had something written in what appeared to be three different languages. Bau had told her that Thessian hierogrammatics, Turian cuneiform, and Salarian typoglyphs would be the mass majority of languages she would be seeing unless she entered into a species-specific area. Inspector Jondum spoke, but was facing at a degree that Jane couldn't pick up his words with her ULT, hearing his natural voice speak _glone vort kree'all toona vees tor yaka'turinal vopora yashagorbinah_ and gestured towards her. Ah, he had told the Solar Electronics employee that she was in need of a better translator, most likely. "Ah, is that… a Human Rosetta Stone OmniLang model?" The greeter asked, his dark eyes touching upon the device that Jane wore on her right ear.

"Yes, Mister Tann. It is." She wasn't sure the honorific for a Salarian, but figured that _his_ translator would pick up her word '_Mister_' and likely translate it to the common word used for his species.

"Only allows for visual translation, one output device, and a limited library. Yes, _virtine_ for the Citadel." The young woman tried not to wince when she didn't get all of what the employee had said. "Humans too new, still trying to reach common everyday product capabilities. Much to learn, much to cover. Can take decades to get the proper software, the bugs out, and to do host analysis of local environments that would be more practical for being on the Cit. Come, let me _krorn rrieakle nearien_…" He had turned away as Jane's ULT lost 'sight' of his mouth as he gestured for her to follow him. That was, thankfully, easily understood. He was still talking when he took her to a shelving unit along the back of the store where small holographic projections of items were illuminated on the shelves to 'display' products available while avoiding loss prevention issues. "_…dakara neirner ierndso _have a good selection of models much more _keranear_ for the Citadel, be it business, recreation, or living. Which would you prefer?"

"What does an average translator cost?" Jane asked, not having any idea whatsoever. Her Universal Language Translator had ran about twenty-five hundred credits, which had been supplied by the LDS Church as a necessary expenditure. The holographic screens showing many different company make and models, with _alien_ descriptions describing their capabilities, didn't come with a price that she could see. All she could do was look at pictures of earpieces, a conjoined single ear/eye piece, and ones that were holographic visor bands that Jane guessed were for both eyes and ears.

"The lowest price _aer _that would work reasonably for living on the Cit is the Ariake Technologies' Logic Arrest Translator, which would be seven thousand, nine hundred and ninety-five Galactic Credits. Before taxes." Tann replied, and Jane almost lost her jaw it dropped so fast. That… was a significant percentage of her funds that she needed to be meager with for the next two years! Her ULT was literally the most expensive thing she had ever owned, and she was discovering that it was nowhere near enough what she needed to have for her missionary work on the Citadel.

"_Veep aienaer koola armali jhonda nexus? Ty koola elkoss combine choga?_" Bau asked quickly, Jane getting none of it. 'Armali' was a Thessian word that she had heard before, and 'Elkoss' was… Volus? A big business of some sort she most have overheard on a news program somewhere.

"Ah, the Elkoss Combine Cipher would be a good choice in this _heretial_." The employee nodded, his lipless mouth flexing into something resembling a grin. "It provides VI software for realtime auditory translation, offers text translations, and even SpotFind capabilities with ExtraNet connection for native updates and bug-patching. A good choice for… first time?" That was directed towards the young woman.

"Yes sir." Jane was officially well in over her head. She only understood a portion of the capabilities of what Tann had said, but it sounded like it was an advanced computer program that would translate on the spot (instead of the one second lag her own ULT had), read words to her, and then even look up discrepancies and fix them.

"A worthy model and a good choice." The Solar Electronics employee said, that twitch of a grin came back. "That model costs nineteen thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-five Galactic Credits. Before taxes." Jane felt her heart drop at the price. She thought the _other_ one expensive!

"_Globdel meelo tu."_

Jane looked to her companion with a slow sinking feeling in her belly. She didn't understand what Jondum Bau had said, but… she was pretty dang certain he probably just said in Salarian _"I'll take it"_.

"Inspector," Jane tugged on his robe sleeve slightly, getting his attention as she whispered so the conversation was little more private despite having an audience of one. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"If you are inferring that I am purchasing that model, then the answer is yes." The Salarian C-SEC Agent replied, a smile coming to his lipless mouth that was more real than Tann's.

"But… I…" Shepard felt floored at the revelation. The Elkoss Combine Cipher was _twenty kiloCredits_! _Before taxes!_ That was a _fifth_ of her savings! "I… don't know how I'm suppose to repay that, Inspector Jondum!"

"It is… a donation. For a worthy cause." The Salarian male replied, his head turning slightly to look at the clerk and twitching to one side as if to imply _get my product, please_ before turning his face to face her, Tann puttering away. "It is rare I meet someone that I find worthy of respect and consideration. Most are in it for their own personal desires. To hear a young not-Dalatrass having worked so hard to _earn_ her way here just so she could help others without a thought towards herself? I am… in awe." Jane had to blink away a couple of tears, a little emotionally overwhelmed. "Besides, C-SEC pays me ridiculously well. This would not hurt me financially."

"I… _thank you_." She hoped the Salarian's own translating device conveyed what she truly said, what she truly felt. She wanted to do good work, to help people. And the Good Book said good things came to those who did good; the favor returned. She just wasn't expecting this at all. Her first day on the Citadel, and she had already impressed someone with her outlook and her efforts, enough so that they were in turn aiding her in her endeavors. It was beyond touching. "I came here to help people, and…"

"…and sometimes those who do help need help themselves. I am C-SEC; I know these things." Bau replied with a smile. "I wish to help, to do a small part that helps others. It is as you said before, we in law enforcement do serve a greater cause for the community other than just catching criminals. We are to be the line that inspires civility and reaffirmation in the law. Helping others who work towards that endeavor is simply good math." Jane felt her heart flutter slightly at the Inspectors' words. He… he believed in her, and that belief had her a little teared up. She wondered if there was a deeper meaning to his donation; her father mentioned that sometimes people helped out of the goodness of their heart, and others helped to make up for the mistakes that they made. Both were in good standing, as everyone made mistakes. Perhaps her describing to him of her faith and her missionary work had him wishing he could do something of the same, or perhaps he saw things that he wished could change and she was aiming right for those things. Either way, the Salarian C-SEC Inspector was going to gift to her the ability to help out others in a much better way than she would have been able to do so. She was utterly touched by it.

The Solar Electronics employee, Tann, returned with a small device in his hand, the described Elkoss Combines' Cipher Unilateral Translation Module in one of his three-fingered hands. Jane looked to Bau, who gave her a nod as she removed the Rosetta Stone OmniLang Universal Language Translator device from her right ear and replaced it with the Cipher UTM. Shepard heard a few tones in hear ear for a moment before a small chime followed by a 'connectivity achieved' reached her ear in a different Human voice than the monotone British woman's. Jane looked over to Inspector Jondum and was a little shocked that she could see blue neon letters written over his robe holographically that said 'Ins. Jondum, B. C-SEC CPPA' over the squiggly writing on his C-SEC robe uniform. _How does it do that?_, the young woman wondered as she looked over to Tann and saw something similar in the center of his robe, near the open throat of his garment, reading 'Tann, J. SolElec' in holographic yellow letters. All in Standard Alliance English, at that!

"I can read your nametapes!" Jane exclaimed happily, looking over to the holographic screen that showed the models of translators, seeing more holographic overlay letters converting the languages to ones she could read. "I can read _everything_ now!"

"Then it is working properly." A male-like voice came to her, but not one she was facing, a little higher pitched than a normal Human man's tone as she looked in confusion and saw that it had been Bau who had spoken. "You understood me?"

"Yes! And you sound like a male, not… what I was hearing before." Shepard admitted sheepishly, a little embarrassed that she had said something. "Most Human automation voices are the same voice; this monotone British female that has no inflection or deviations to mark tone or suggesting the other persons' intent. Everyone sounded like they had the same voice. It wasn't… very proper." The young Human woman admitted, getting the sales clerk to chuckle. "How is it I can read your names without having an eyepiece?"

"Augmented Reality Display." Tann replied, nodding. "The devices projects a small holographic screen in front of your right eye, invisible to your field-of-view. It transcribes words so that you made read the many languages of the Cit. Learning ones' own native language is an endeavor of children. Learning others is generally an endeavor of diplomats and scholars. For the rest of us? Translation software… Sister Jane of the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-Day Saints." He gestured to her white name tag that displayed her name and her faith. "One must remember to keep the optidisplay device that is above your ear clear of your… floppy red headcrest…", ah, he didn't know the term 'hair', "so that you may continue to do so. And that model will translate any voice within a range of about fifteen meters, big or small. It will take some time to adjust to it. Many get a second model so they can differentiate distance and direction of a speaker, though this is generally unnecessary. The Cipher has several microspeakers that will produce multiple voices with tone, inflection, and suggestions of intent, as well as providing clues of direction and distance, as well as volume of speaker and any status updates upon the Cit itself. It is a very good model to have." Jane was a good deal taken aback at the capabilities.

"Now I see why you think we have so much ground to cover, Mister Tann. I don't know if we have anything like that." The redhead hadn't purchased or ordered her Translator, nor had she looked it up to compare with other Human-oriented models. "This… really is amazing though. It's almost like I grew up understand everyone!" She shared her smile with Jondum Bau. "Thank you! I really can't thank you enough for this! I… wouldn't have known the difference."

"It was my pleasure, Sister." The Inspector nodded his head towards the young woman, and she felt her cheeks heating up with a blush. "Now we shall finish our transaction."

Jane gulped a little at that and the thought of the twenty _thousand_ Credit device that sat in and on her right ear.

* * *

Author's Notes: Many of the Citadel concepts that I had made for A Fox Amongst The Wolves and Mass Effect: Of Lions And Angels was used in fleshing out the Citadel. Since Jane is spending the next two years in the Center of the Known Universe, I couldn't just have her running around in that confusing first game map or just in a few levels of the Zakera Ward, could I? I give a brief description of what I see the Citadel being, likening it to some of the major tourist-y cities on Earth, specifically Tokyo, New York City, and Las Vegas. Instead of bombarding you with details (as I usually do), I will expand as I go along, creating a world that is the Citadel; a city amongst the stars.

For the Sur'keshian/Sur'Lang language, I merely did the Scrabble method; I randomly typed keystrokes with intermittent spaces. Don't bother matching words as I give at least the basic ideas of what is said.

Essentially, the Universal Translator is what I think one would have in the MEU; something that displays foreign words and speaks your native language to translate right into your ear, giving some notions of inflections, distance, direction, attitude, et cetera. And yes, the models were named after OmniTools from the first game, and the Human one after the 'major' translation program, Rosetta Stone; named after the Greek-Cretean-Egyptian translation inscribing founded by Napoleon Bonaparte (actually, Lieutenant Pierre-Francois Bouchard during the African Campaign by Bonaparte) in 1799 that helped us understand Egyptian; we had lost the understanding of the language millennia before, but not Ancient Greek, providing us decades (if not centuries) of information about the Ancient Dynasties of the Nile. This event practically invented Archeology and Egyptology and the subsequent expeditions of the tombs, ruins, sites, and holdings of the Ancient Dynasties that would be so prevalent in the 19th and 20th Century. The Stone itself is broken, only Demotic Egyptian (not the hieroglyphs we common folk easily recognize) being nearly pristine, while the Hieroglyph and Hellenic texts were missing several to majority portions. It still remains to this day one of the most important archaeological finds in human history. It is also the most popular display in the British Museum, who took it for prize in 1802 when they defeated the African Campaign. Both the French Government (who lost it in war) and the Egyptian Government (who never even knew they had it) both claim its ownership and squawk for its return, but all translations and works have been done (and paid for) by British scholars, researchers, and professors of the art, which is why so many Egyptologists in the past were Englishmen.


	4. The Fault In Our Stars, III

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith._

Author's Note: Notre Dame! :'-( #OurLadyOfParis #StoneForStone

First, I like to thank everyone who has given me some rather flowery comments and support, from the non-LDS's (Gentiles?) who were rather shocked that someone would actually do this but were willing to give it a shot, to the LDS's (Saints) that have commented on my accuracy and research in trying to get this to be similar to missionary work (I made a change or two for the story, specifically the Colonist background, and I don't doubt I've made an error here or there aside from that). I haven't been trolled yet or told I was a lunatic, which is also a plus. Of all the things I've written, this is likely the most unusual and original route I've gone. Even with the extensive research, it has been quite fun and endearing.

Second? You get to learn a little bit of what missionary day-to-day is like, mile in someone else's shoes and all that. I told you it was about the _work_… and _work_ isn't meant to be easy. All those young men and women you smiled at and closed the doors on?

You're about to get a first-person point of view.

* * *

**Third Floor, Shibuya Tower, Block 3400 (Lower Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

_+14 Days after arrival at the Citadel_

Missionary life was regimented one.

Sister Jane Catherine Shepard woke up with the small alarm she had packed from home at the Citadel's version of 06:00 in the morning (called Early Light on the Cit) in her small offered room courtesy of Father Simon Caldwell, the Catholic Priest who ran the 'All-Faiths Chapel' in the Shibuya Tower in the 3400 Block (Lower Wards) of the Tayseri Arm. There were four small rooms in the back of the small former business space that use to be a 'Power Play' electronic game store that had gone out of business a few years back. Now it served as a _very_ small church in the massive megalobby of the Shibuya Tower; a two-hundred and twenty-five meter tower that had seventy-five floors of living spaces for its residents.

Of those floors, the first five were devoted to the needs of the residents of Shibuya Towers, anything from local grocers (levo and dextro-chiliary oriented, as well as both), local barbers (of a variety of species), clothing shops, laundry services, repair shops, eateries, cafes, daycares (again, for a variety of species), retail stores, department stores, electronic stores… everything that a consumer could possibly need.

As far as churches went, there was just the one.

Jane woke up, an early riser thanks to a life lived in an agrarian world, and most especially on a farmstead where chores were done before the rising of the sun. Getting up, she made her bed first before setting her clothes out for the day on top of the plain comforter. Next to her dress were her daily effects that she would need for proselytizing, the big item being her personal Samsung Electronics' Universe-S DataPadd that contained her downloaded Missionary Handbook (generally called _The While Bible_, but they weren't suppose to call it that), and her Preach My Gospel files. A few more items would be included into the pile that would be held in her backpack satchel that she would take with her for the day, including her homemade (well, _kitchenette_-made) lunch and dinner while she was working on her mission. Those were still in the refrigeration unit in the small _kitchenette_ that she shared with Father Caldwell, the two of them switching off who had dishes for the day. The young woman stood in her small room and began her daily exercises, beginning with five minutes worth of stretches that focused mostly on her legs, as she would be on her feet all day. Having fully stretched out, Jane began doing a series of bodyweight exercises that would help her keep fit, as the Word of Wisdom suggested, doing bodyweight squats, jumping jacks, lunges, crunches, and finally military-styled push ups. She did this for another twenty-five minutes, switching off one exercise for another for each minute, doing five minutes of each congruently. As always, the fitness program she had created for herself got her fairly sweaty, so the sixteen year old woman went into the closet-sized bathroom to use its water closet for showering, stripping off her night clothes to take a nice warm five minute shower. Grabbing an available towel (with a silent thank you to Father Caldwell for doing some of the chores that a missionary leader was responsible for such as linens and stocking the larder), she began drying herself off. Jane had tried to insist that she would help out with more of the chores, but the wily old Priest wouldn't have it, insisting on doing most of them so that 'Sister Shepard' could maximize her time doing her religious work while 'he puttered around like an old fart'.

The Glasgow-born Priest was well into his centenarian years, almost a hundred-and-ten, and whatever habits he had weren't going to change. He was unfailing polite, a fun conversationalist, liked to rant about how the younger generation had gotten lazy, and could be found humming and singing softly while working or cooking. The Scottish Priest would cook her breakfast every other day, and she had raised up a very polite but very insistent storm that she'd be allowed to return the favor every other day. Despite that, more often than not, they agreed to disagree, Jane found herself admiring the old Priest who would step out of his little barely-bigger-than-her-family's-living-room chapel every morning to talk to people and help out those who seemed to be downtrodden with words that generally equaled to '_don't mope, fix it_', and '_suck it up, junior_'. He always had candy for children, was unfailing polite to women, and glared at men he deemed 'crybabies' (which seemed to be _all_ of them). He spent his daytime hours mostly as a mobile councilor, going out to the public and seeking out those who needed the help himself, never charging a Credit for his time. Father Caldwell was made of sterner stuff, and Jane had to giggle at the fact that, when some miscreant didn't recognize the Roman Collar he wore with his black cassock and tried to sell the Priest some Red Sand (a narcotic, Jane assumed), the old man gave the dealer 'Free Glasgow Dental Work' with a right hook and knocked out a man a _fifth_ his age before calling C-SEC to arrest the unconscious criminal.

Evidently, Scottish Priests felt that 'Hail Marys' could be delivered with the _hands-on_ approach.

Finished with her shower, Sister Jane went back to her tiny room to get dressed, seeing that it was only 06:45 when she was finished; ahead of schedule, just as planned. She went to the chapel's tiny kitchenette and began making breakfast, what Father Caldwell liked to call the 'Scattered, Smothered, and Covered' breakfast after some old restaurant chain on Earth; scattered hashbrowns, onions, and cheese fried on the kitchenettes' tiny induction stove. Jane hummed as she cooked breakfast for two, having already made a cup of coffee through the Kureig's K-Cup 4K Single-Cup dispenser for Father Caldwell, who was an early riser just as she. The young woman could hear the shower going in the next room over, indicating the old Priest was using the facilities as she took a spatula to hashbrowns to flip them over to get them to a golden brown. She took a handful of chopped onions and shredded cheese when she flipped it over again to add the 'fixin's' as the centenarian man liked to call them, frying it for a little bit longer before serving it on two ceramic plates.

Scrapping off the excess hashbrowns off the skillets' cooking surface, Jane grabbed four chicken eggs from the refrigeration unit to crack them open over the skillet to fry them up, tossing the broken shells into the biomass disposal container before taking the spatula to scramble them. It made her think of her mothers' own scrambled eggs; eggs cracked into a bowl, with the addition of farm-fresh whole milk and a dollop of sour cream and whisked for a minute before being poured into a skillet to create the golden cloud of scrambled eggs that Jane had eating most every morning her entire life. Milk and sour cream were, sadly, quite expensive on the Cit due to the fact that only Humans used them and the Human population on the mega-station was set at around twenty-five thousand people. Still, the scrambled eggs were cooked to perfection if a little flatter than what the young woman was use to making, Elizabeth Shepard having taught her daughter how to cook since she was twelve, mother and daughter sharing duties and time together cooking for their family. It had always touched her to see her father, brothers and sisters eating food she had helped prepared and cooked, getting compliments at the family dinner table when they shared the last meal of the day together every day save for extracurricular activities that they had, such as Jane's Young Womens' Society or Matthew's Boy Scouts of Humanity meetings.

"Good morning, Father." Jane said cheerfully as she was finishing up with the final touches of breakfast when Father Simon Caldwell entered the kitchenette with its small breakfast nook that they shared for breakfast, dishing scrambled eggs onto the plates. "Your coffee is ready." There was just the one cup. Shepard herself had grape juice that was made from a can of concentrate and kept in a pitcher in the refrigeration unit.

"Thank you, Sister." The wily old Priest took the two plates into one hand while grabbing his mug with the other to set them down on the breakfast nook while the young woman turned off the stove, scraped the leftover food from the skillet into the biomass disposal, and ran water into the cast iron skillet that was likely three to four times her age in the small single-basin sink to let it soak along with the spatula. She grabbed a pair of forks from the small silverware drawer and brought them to the nook before grabbing her glass of juice to accompany the old Scotsman for breakfast. Together, they said Grace over their breakfast in the Catholic tradition before beginning to eat. "More doors today?" Father Caldwell asked as he began to fork his breakfast to death, mixing the eggs with the hashbrowns, already dressed for the day in his usual, official attire; the black cassock with its white Roman Collar at the throat.

"More doors today." The redhead confirmed, already in her own official attire; a baby blue full-length dress, a pair of good walking shoes, and her name tag declaring her title, name, and faith. "It's interesting knocking on doors in a residential tower. I've seen pictures of missionaries on bicycles going around Earth neighborhoods, towns, and cities, but it's different here. My main mode of transportation besides my feet is an elevator."

"The Citadel is its own world, that's for certain." The Scottish Priest replied with a nod. "Don't forget that I have Mid-Week Services tonight, as well as the support group." Father Caldwell ran two services a week; Wednesday Mass, and Sunday Mass, along with confessional for both. The support group was a tri-weekly thing for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, each one a different kind a group. Wednesday was politely known as the 'Wilson Group', what traditionally use to be known as Alcoholic's Anonymous. The AA group brought in more people than the services, sadly, in which Jane _did_ attend and helped set up.

"I'll be there for the services." Jane said with a smile as she continued eating breakfast. They both finished up quickly, Jane setting the plates into the sink to soak while Father Caldwell fixed himself another cup of coffee while preparing lunch for the both of them (at his insistence). The redhead saw that the time was only 07:20; well ahead of schedule. She utilized the time by going to her small room and pulling out her physical copies of the Holy Bible (King James Version), the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price, seeing the many ribbons, bookmarks, and inserted markers for her personal study. For the next hour, she read passages from the Gospel of Matthew, the Book of Third Nephi, and several of the Covenants of the Prophet Smith. When her alloted hour was up, Jane placed her holy texts away with loving hands, grabbing her satchel with its necessaries to take to the kitchenette. Without a companion, she didn't spend the extra hour in companion study, though she would do so with Father Caldwell every other day. There she saw that Father Caldwell had made her two tuna fish sandwiches in a sealed plastic container, as well as an apple, a package of trail mix, and two one-liter bottles of water. The lunch went into her satchel, along with her DataPadd with her downloads of church-related material, a few business card-like offerings with the chapels address for possible investigators, and several folded pamphlets for lesson materials for those who wished to learn more. Closing up her satchel, Jane slid the backpack over her shoulders as she left the kitchenette, almost bumping into Father Caldwell on her way out, apologizing. The old Scotsman smiled, bid her a good day, and blessed her on her way out as she walked out of the Chapel at 08:30…

…and into the Center of the Known Universe known as the Citadel.

* * *

**Domicile 4210, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

Sister Jane Catherine Shepard stood in front of Domicile 4210 with a smile on her face as she hit the electronic doorbell for the residential location in the tenth domicile of the forty-second floor. Whoever designed the Citadel (okay, the Protheans did) had set up the residential towers in the same configuration and style throughout the Cit. Each tower was seventy-five stories tall at three meters per floor, with the first five floors reserved for non-residences for businesses and basic services to provide. Each floor had ten residential location with a square-like hallway on the interior tract that made up the airy Atrium that was the 'center column' of each tower; a large empty space in which one could look down and see either the 'ceiling' or the 'ground', the viewer protected both by a safety rail and an anti-fall Kiggs field. In fourteen days, she had already knocked on the doors of some twenty-four _hundred_ residences in four separate towers in the Rimward Section of the Tayseri Arm. It took her almost four days to go through the entirety of a tower and its seven hundred domiciles, and she had completed three towers since she began.

The door slid open to reveal an older Human gentleman wearing a plain shirt and dark slacks, looking as if he were getting himself ready for work.

"Good Light, sir!" The young redheaded Sister said with a cheerful tone as the man looked at her, obviously a little surprised at seeing a young woman at his door with a DataPadd in her hand. "I was wondering if you had a moment of time where we could discuss a few things together about the truth." The man looked at her with confusion and uncertainty as she smiled at him.

"Is this a political party thing?" The man asked, frowning.

"No, sir. Not at all!" The missionary replied. "My name is Sister Shepard, and I wanted to get a chance to talk to you-"

"Sister?" The man asked, his tone dropping slightly, hovering over disgust. "There's still nuns?"

"I… do believe that the Catholic Church still have nuns." Actually, she had no idea. "But I am neither a nun or a Catholic. What I wanted to do is to get the opportunity with you to discuss-"

"Mormon." The man replied, his tone assured. And scornful.

"Yes, sir. I am a part of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." Sister Jane Shepard replied, trying to keep up her cheer as she knew what would happen next. "I am a-" The door slid shut. And Jane sighed.

"Have a good day, sir." She whispered at the closed door as she flicked her DataPadd on, found the field that had '4210' marked for Otavian Tower, and marked it with a negative.

She went next door, a little heartbroken.

* * *

**Domicile 4209, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

The electronic doorbell was rung, and the door slid open about a moment later to reveal a Human women, late-20's, with a little baby boy sitting on her hip as she held him, looking at Sister Jane Shepard as the young woman smiled at the mother.

"Good Light, ma'am." Jane said in a cheerful tone as the mother looked at her, her eyes narrowing as she studied her. "I was wondering if we could have a quick chance to discuss-"

"Harold! Did you invite your _whore_ here?" The woman called out to her left, further into the domicile, her tone caustic and abrasive. The little boy, perhaps a year old, looked at Jane with wonderment, chewing on a stuffed elephant.

"No, ma'am!" Shepard tried to placate the woman, her blue-eyed gaze going to the Mindoirian. "My name is Sister Shepard, and I am here because I-"

"What kind of name is that, 'Sister'?" The woman perhaps only ten years her senior decided to vent on the redhead. This was not going well. "Where did you meet my husband, slut? At some bar or strip club while you-"

"I'm a Mormon Missionary!" Jane impolitely interrupted before things got really out of hand, alarmed at how this woman practically exploded with accusations towards a stranger.

"Wait… Mormon?" One of the woman's eyebrow went up inquisitively as she looked at Jane again… her eyes zooming in on the name placard pinned over her heart. "Aren't you Jesus freaks suppose to be doing this kind of thing on Earth?"

"Well, ma'am, we of the Church-"

The door slid shut. Another sigh. Another negative.

Jane went next door.

* * *

**Domicile 4205, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

After 'knocking' on three doors in a row with no answer, Domicile 4205 opened up to reveal a Salarian male in a common robe oriented for his kind, in drab browns and cream. His large, dark eyes looked and blinked at her as the Sur'keshian seemed a little surprised to find a Human at his door.

"Good Light, sir." Sister Shepard began with the same tone that she would use if a Human had opened the door. "I was wondering if you would like to take some time so we can discuss-"

"Hello." The Salarian replied a little belatedly, his large eyes blinking at her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, sir." Jane smiled, knowing that something like five to ten percent of male Salarians born in a clutch were known as _Chenobits_, and expressed great levels of intellect. Another five to ten percent of male Salarians were of average-to-above-average intelligence, and were known as _Mesobits_. Unfortunately, the rest of their brothers suffered the _opposite_ effect; they measured a good deal below the common standard of 'average' intelligence. This was sadly one of those known as _Senabits_. "I have come to you today to see if we could take some time to have a discussion together?" The young woman kept her voice friendly and inviting, watching as the Salarian blink again.

"Sister said no visitors." No Salarian went against their Dalatrasses wishes, so Jane decided to see if they could hold the discussion right in the hallway.

"Of course, sir. I'm perfectly willing to talk to you here out in the hall today." She really tried not to think about what Inspector Jondum Bau had said of the _Senabits_; his words had been 'about a smart as a medicated varren and about a slow as an Elcor'. As Jane understood it, _Senabits_ were the menial workers and laborers of the Salarian Race, generally needing more-or-less constant direction or supervision for many tasks. If she couldn't come in, perhaps she could talk from right where she stood.

"Sister said no visitors." The Salarian replied, his tone never changing. "Good Light."

"Good Light, sir." Sister Shepard said as the door closed before her.

Another negative.

* * *

**Domicile 4202, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

Jane Shepard stood in front of the door as it opened, revealing a blue creature; an Asari. The young woman gulped a little at the sight of the Asarikin who had either forgotten, or decided to go without, her apparel, as nude as the day she was born. The redhead conveniently decided to hold her DataPadd in a way that would block her view from a Thessian who did indeed have a great deal of anatomical similarities to a Human being.

"G-Good Light, ma'am." Sister Shepard said, trying to salvage this unusual situation as best she could by looking the Asari in her bluish eyes and try not to notice the smirk that crawled over the Thessian's full, pouty lips at the sight of the young Human woman's growing discomfort. "I-I was wondering if we could have a talk about-"

"Talk? No one comes here to _talk_." The Asari said with a sultry tone, Jane noticing the Thessian's eyes going down and then back up to assess her. "You certainly are of a different sort than my usual clientele."

"My name is Sister Shepard, and I am a missionary with the-"

"Such a boring position." The nude blue-skinned not-female said languidly as she rested an arm against the frame of her door, sliding herself against it suggestively. "If you've come for lessons, I am certain we can _talk_ about it."

Jane fled down the hall.

* * *

**Food Court, Ground Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

Lunchtime had come as Sister Jane Shepard occupied a small table by herself amiss the crowds of the Otavian Tower, the many who worked in its various businesses and necessities taking the scheduled lunch hour to grab a bite to eat as well. Even after two week on the Citadel, it still amazed her to see so many different _sapients _(one did not call another an _alien_; that was considered hugely rude) wandering about. There were something like _thirty-nine_ species that called the Citadel the Center of the Known Universe, species ranging from space-fairing and owning only their own system but able to travel via a Mass Relay, to some of the mega-empires like the Thessian Republic of City-States, the Palavenian Hierarchy, and the Sur'keshian Union of Planets. It really got one wondering about Mankind's place amongst the stars seeing so many beings traveling about in a rather peaceful, unified manner. It took Mankind more than a few generations to create countries that were veritable 'melting pots' of culture and civility instead of forcing everyone to align themselves to exactly _one_ culture, though it hadn't always been easy for said nations. Yet the Citadel was the home for nearly forty species that could live side-by-side with little in the way of interference or deprivation, though Jane didn't doubt there were those who made it trying, or species that had to do without due to their biologies, such as the Volus or the Elcor. Still, it really was a marvel, and Jane wondered how people could be so… _blase_ about it!

"Hey, Plex this one out." Came the duel-toned flanged voice of a young Turian male nearby, a wash of conversations that Jane could hear thanks to her Elkoss Combine Cipher Omniversal Language Dictator, hearing in Standard Alliance English words coming from the mouths of Thessians, Palavenians, Sur'keshians, Irunians, Dekunnans, Kahjeans, Tharks, Khar'shanians, Tuchankans, Rannochians, Heshtokians, Mogwians, Maldorans, Jarterians, Barsoomians, Omnacroms, Ble'tarans, and a whole host of others that she got to see on a rare occasion. Humans were in a vast minority on the Citadel despite the size of Earth Alliance Space so soon after the First Contact War and the Council of Law granting occupancy for the Human Race only seven years prior. The estimated Human population on the Cit was only around twenty-thousand or so. The young woman looked over to see a trio of young Turians, pre-Boot Camp age, pointing her out at her table despite being surrounded by other occupied tables filled with other sapients (she hadn't found a table with a Human to share with it, unfortunately). She was in the middle of eating her second tuna fish sandwich while reading from her Samsung Electronics' Universe-S DataPadd when she heard the Turian and saw him pointing a taloned finger at her to his friends. Jane sighed as she set the sandwich down and slipped her DataPadd into her satchel at her feet. This would likely be an incident, and it would hardly be her first with Palavenians. The three Turian boys (she assumed them to be boys; their fringes didn't go past their skulls and they didn't have the mass bulk of their chest carapaces that adults tend to have, plus they were only Human-sized) weaved through a couple of tables to reach her own table. While Jane wasn't the greatest at recognizing Turian facial expressions, she had gotten pretty good at identifying belligerence.

"Good Light, citizens." Jane greeted the boys properly once they got within the circle that most considered personal space, using the proper word to identify a Turian; by law, all Turians were citizens of the Hierarchy whether they liked it or not. Calling them 'sir' or 'ma'am' was considered appropriate, but calling them 'citizen' before they gave off their rank or standing in the meritocracy was correct. "Enjoying meal break?" Shepard was pretty certain that these were fourteen-year old Turians, _senior year_ for those amongst Humanity. When they turned fifteen and passed whatever schooling they went to, Turians went to Palaven for Conscription and mandatory Boot Camp. Yes, that _seemed_ young in a Human's mind, when the adult age was set at eighteen throughout Earth Alliance Space, but Palaven and the Hierarchy were a different government and people all together. Still, fourteen year old Turians seemed a heck of a lot less mature than their seventeen year old Human equivalents. They were more prone to acting like… well, fourteen year olds. Jane wondered if it was a tradition started centuries or millennium before that really began with some nation or empire with the need of warriors and started recruiting _child-soldiers_. Fifteen year old Turians weren't even fully grown or mature, and generally hit their full height at twenty. These Turian boys should be at their Hierarchy-sponsored Education Dormitory, not prowling about on the Cit during lunch hour. _Hooligans, hecklers, or worse_, Shepard thought with an internal sigh.

"What you eating there, _s'kak_-flinger?" The main heckler said, the Turian in question only slightly taller than she if she were standing up, and not much wider, either. Jane pursed her lips at the untranslated word _'s'kak'_, fully knowing what it meant thanks to Father Caldwell. It was the Turian term for defecation and elimination. Poop, in other words. The term 'poop-flinger' had sadly come about with Humanity's discovery when someone had looked up something on the Human EtherNet and found the close cousin of _homo sapiens_ to better identify them with; the _Pan Troglodyte_, or the common chimpanzee. Unfortunately, there had been a galactic meme of the adorable creature defecating in its own hand and flinging it at something, and thus as a derogatory term, 'monkey' and 'poop-flinger' were some of the more popular racial slurs.

"It is a levo-oriented tuna fish sandwich." Jane replied as neutrally as she could, knowing that Turians could practically _smell_ hostility and fear with their snouts; they were an evolved species of flightless birds-of-prey that hunted by olfactory scent. Thus the less-than-pleasant term for Palavenians; Raptors. "I also have an apple and some trail mix."

It wasn't uncommon for a missionary to offer to share food with others in the commemoration of their Lord and Savior breaking bread and serving others, but Turians were dextro-chiliary; her food would send them to anaphylactic shock and her to jail for intentional poisoning. All restaurants or anyone else who served food and produce on the Citadel marked items clearly for levo- or dextro-compliance, and _everyone_ had the same legally-allowed disclaimer 'customer consumes at own discretion' at what they ordered. Evidently, to this day, there were still issues with cooks to cook on the appropriate spot meant for levo foods or dextro foods at the appropriate places with the appropriate pots and pans. It reminded Jane of _kosher_ and _halal_ religious dietary laws where Jewish and Muslim people weren't allowed to eat swine/pork or anything that swine/pork had been cooked on/touched.

What Jane hadn't been _exactly_ expecting was for one of the Turians to knock her food off of the table as all three loomed over her. The level of conversations around them dimmed considerably with the act, and the young woman wasn't sure if someone around them was calling C-SEC. That could be a troublesome thing; something like seventy percent of Citadel Security Service Officers were Turian, after all.

"Your kind don't belong here, monkey." Said the boy Turians, his colonial paint a good deal heavier and more intrinsic than the others. So they were fourteen; generally that was when pre-Boot Camp Turians were allowed to identify themselves with their clan paint, a year before Mandatory Boot. It was crimson in color and decorated about half his face-plates, while the other two were merely a few lines, one having cobalt and the other a sort of grape color. "Why don't you go back to your backwater planet with all the other _s'kak_-throwers?"

"Look at her fringe! Looks like a crest gone wrong!" That was Grape. Crimson seemed to be the leader while the other two his entourage. "And those weird bulges! Aren't they suppose to be larger or something?" Jane felt heat rise to her cheeks as she automatically covered her chest with an arm.

"Citizens, may I remind you that I am trying to have lunch?" Jane said, knowing this was going downhill quickly. No one around was interfering from the obvious scene, and Jane knew a thing or two about bullies from back on Mindoir, mostly oriented towards her faith. The Cit had taught what it was like when it was her species, instead. One of the Turians, Cobalt, mimed her response mockingly, much to the amusement to the other two.

"Maybe she's like an Asari." Crimson looked to his fellows, folding his arms over his robed chest-carapace. "We already have the table and chairs. Throw a few credits and perhaps she'll dance." Jane was about to squawk indigently at that when something caught her attention, something behind the boy Turians. Something much taller. Something much wider. Something much redder.

And a great deal angrier.

Crimson's head disappeared as a massive three-finger pawed clutched at it from the top, fingers grabbing underneath his jaw and picking him straight up off the ground. Digitigrade legs flailed about in the air as Cobalt and Grape backed away as Jane watched in somewhat-terrified awe as the Turian boy's muffled screams were heard as she watched the hand turn the boy about so its owner could look at him with a wide sneer, showing _many_ sharp teeth as blood-red eyes assessed its prey. There was no denying the sight of that beast, with its arching hump, massive paws, thick limbs and body, along with a red headplate marked by three old scars cutting down its surface and the right side of the owner's snout.

It was a Tuchankan, what the galaxy called _Krogan_.

"Are you assaulting a female, _whelp?_" The scorn in the Krogan's voice was palatable, his voice louder than the Turian boys' had been. Jane sat in her seat, transfixed and mesmerized. While only head-and-shoulders-and-hump taller than the boy Turian, the Tuchankan was at least three times as wide and as thick. He certainly wasn't wearing the common colors associated with C-SEC, the periwinkle blue-and-soft black. Instead, he was some sort of thick-looking armor that was a dull red-brown, visible scuffs and dings on it from… use. "Know what happens to those who assault females, _whelp?_"

Crimson's muffled replies were drowned in the Krogan's paw. His talons were desperate to try and loosen the thick fingers covering his head but with no success.

"Pathetic." The Krogan huffed, the left eye of the Tuchankan moved to look at her while the right stayed on the Turian independently. The left eye moved back to its quarry as the Krogan dropped the Turian, the Palavenian landing on the ground in a heap before getting up and scrambling away. The eyes moved two two different directions on either side of the head, focusing on two different things, first the left and then the right, almost like how an Earth reptile could. "Don't you two have _anywhere_ else you need to be?" Jane saw that Cobalt and Grape backed away and fled as well, the Tuchankan chuckling before both of his eyes darted over to her, giving her a small nod, and then turned to storm away.

"W-wait!" Jane said, picking up her satchel at her feet and following the Krogan, who was already outside of the Food Court by the time she caught up with the massive sapient. She went in front of him to halt his progress, the red headplated Tuchankan stopping as the young woman reached into her satchel and pulled out her apple, offering it to him.

"What is this?" The Krogan asked, his eyes narrowing on the apple.

"It's an apple, an Earth fruit." Jane replied, holding it out for him. "It's a part of my lunch, but I want you to have it as way of thanks." The Tuchankan studied the apple _and_ her for a moment before a massive paw took the apple from her hands gently. "You bite into it for its juice. We try not to-"

The Krogan popped the apple whole into his large mouth and bit into it completely.

"-eat the stem or core." Shepard finished with a sigh as the Tuchankan chewed it a few times thoughtfully.

"I like it." The large sapient replied with a nod of his head. "Next time a Turian bothers you, kid, grab their mandible and twist it until it pops off. That'll teach them manners." The Krogan chuckled at his own advise. "Be seeing you around, kid."

"Peace be to you." Sister Jane Shepard said to her temporary savior.

* * *

Author's Note: A shout out to _Predator1701_ for helping me out with some accuracy issues (evidently, I was saying the Church name wrong!) and some pointers.

Now with 100% more _Wrex_.

This was only 'half' a day. The other half will be next chapter.

Scattered, Smothered, Covered - the staple breakfast of Waffle House and the American South. I haven't seen a Waffle House in nearly twenty years (0 in Washington) and I would _kill_ to have an 'All The Way' breakfast or the Double Texas Cheesesteak Platter for dinner.

Alcoholic's Anonymous was co-created/established by William 'Bill' Wilson, who he himself had a huge problem with drinking until reaching permanent sobriety from 1934 to his passing away at 75 in 1971. Most were unaware of his last name until his passing (the anonymous part), and it was often that many would identify themselves being 'a Friend of Bill' (before being officially named AA). To date, over two million members have graced this program started by men who lived in a world where drinking heavily was a part of the cultural norm (and before the Prohibition), and Wilson would always insist that he was just a normal man like any other, sharing his strength, hope, experiences, and mistakes with others like him to help them recover and succeed. You can find a mass majority of 'Anonymous' groups being held in churches all over the world based off the curriculum of Alcoholic's Anonymous and other self-help establishments.

Without getting into religious debates, the Gospel of Matthew is one of three Synoptic Gospels of the accounts of the life of Jesus which includes his genealogy (and is the first book of the New Testament) while the Book of 3 Nephi (Book of Mormon) is the accounts of Jesus Resurrected visiting America. The Doctrine and Covenants are the words of the Prophet Joseph Smith as well as further works of later Presidents and the Quorum that number around a hundred and sixty Covenants today.

The 'normal' schedule for a LDS Missionary is from 06:30 AM - 10:30 PM, resulting in a sixteen hour day. Yes, exercise, two hours of Bible Study (one hour personal, one hour Companion), NINE hours of footwork/proselytizing (I _still_ can't spell this word right without looking it up *sigh*), and two hours for meals is the general gist of it, with small blocks for things like showering, getting ready, prayer, breakfast, and exercise. Two years of this, seven days a week minus Church services and likely a bit of a different schedule for Sundays (I imagine the mornings are spent helping setting up for services and attendance, with afternoon proselytizing work or something similar), and then a block for writing letters (yes… _letters_, y'know… the pen and paper thingie?) for families. Traditionally, phone calls were reserved for Mother's Day and Christmas, though this has been relaxed recently but the intent is still the same; the focus on a missionaries' work is the work of the Lord. I believe most have moved to e-mails (yep, people still use those too) but I'm pretty certain that things like social media network services (like Facebook) are likely dissuaded.

Plex- The MEU version of Google. To 'Plex' is to search (or to get a clue, if being insulting).

Four of the 'alien' species I named (The Thark, the Barsoomian, the Jartarians, and the Mogwians) exist in other medias. The Thark were the tusked, green-skinned, four-armed people of the John Carter Series while the Barsoomians were the 'white' Martians created by Edger Rice Burroughs. I believe the Jartar are one of those random single-episode Star Trek species. The Mogwai is the teddy bear-like creature known as 'Gizmo' in the movies _Gremlins_ and _Gremlins 2_.

Yes, the closest 'cousin' to _Homo Sapiens Sapiens _(modern man) is the _Pan Troglodyte_ and the _Pan Paniscus_, the common chimpanzee and the bonogo, also known as the dwarf chimpanzee.

Kosher/Halal Law - There might be minor differences, but the majority of the rules are the same; clean surface, clean hands, clean blade, pray/bless, slit left to right, drain, butcher. No consumption of meat more than three days butchered. And cooking a steak on a pan that you just had your bacon on is a no-no. Yes, that means all _kashrut_/halal meat is _sanctified/purified_. While most everybody knows that _swine_ (pork) isn't allowed (the rule says animals of the cloven hoof that doesn't chew the cud [a reference to regurgitation acts, specifically those with a gizzard, to include all bovines, goats, sheep, deer, antelope, and gazelle]), there are other animals that are not allowed. I believe crustaceans/shellfish, invertebrates, reptiles, and amphibians are also prohibited. There's secondary ones (draining of blood, what to do with the liver, no limb from a living animal, no carrion [a found dead animal is a no-no, must be slaughtered properly by a human hand], fruit grown from a less-than tree-year old sapling, wheat planted after Passover, birds-of-prey, scavengers, and rodents). These laws can be found in the Books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy in the Old Testament and the Torah, and the Surahs Al-Baqarah, known as The Heifer, and Al-Ma'ida, known as The Table, in the Quran (which is where one would find pork expressed as _asur_/forbidden).


	5. The Fault In Our Stars, IV

_Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith._

**Domicile 2510, Twenty-Fifth Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170**

* * *

_Several Hours After Lunch..._

Sister Jane Catherine Shepard reached the twenty-fifth floor of Otavian Tower, having worked her way down from the top floor (seventy-fifth) two days prior. Like the other towers, the young woman hadn't had much in the way of success in being able to have a conversation with people interested in learning more about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, only being invited into a total of about six domiciles out of twenty-five hundred or so. She knew, realistically, that it was to be expected, both her mother and father telling her that during their own missionary work, that the success ratio was rather low even in locations that hadn't been visited by Mormons in the past. What had her heart-broken was just how _dismal_ it felt. Yes, Jane understood that not everyone was going to up and jump religion just because _she_ showed up to their doorstep; that just smacked of pride and silliness. But she had hoped to engage in at least a few discussions and conversations. Of the six that had actually invited her inside their 'homes', four had been under the impression that she was some sort of traveling salesman, one had been a sweet old woman who was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to, and one had been a man that had a less-than-ideal state of mind about having a young woman in his domicile. Jane had fled _that_ location quite quickly along with a contact call to Citadel Security Services about possible domestic violence charges as well as some other crimes towards females. Unfortunately, after several days after said incident with the pervert, no C-SEC Officer or Detective had ever come to her for a statement, report, or clarification.

She was about to knock on her two-thousand and fortieth door. So far, nothing but disappointment. Jane had high hopes for the old woman to come visit the All-Faiths Chapel. Perhaps a follow-up was in order.

She knocked on the door of Domicile 2510, the first domicile to the left of the turbolift going to each floor of Otavian Tower, keeping to her pattern so she could visit each domicile and keep track of whom she talked to and whom she didn't. The young woman pressed the electronic doorbell and politely took a step back, knowing that each door had a 'viewer' in which a small embedded camera would show the resident who was at their door on a screen just next to the entrance door. Oh, Shepard didn't doubt that there were more than a few domiciles that she visited where the resident saw a stranger knocking on their door and decided to ignore the young redheaded Human woman in a flower-print dress and a white nametag pinned over her heart. Still, it was called 'missionary' work for a reason; if it were easy, there'd likely be no reason to do it as everyone would have been visited and confirmed.

The door slid open to reveal a male Turian C-SEC Officer with steel-gray coloring and cobalt blue colonial stripes upon the back of his mandibles, his cheekplates and across the bridge of his snout. He was wearing what appeared to be an upgraded version of the the Armax Arsenal's Predator Armor; standard C-SEC Armor that patrolling officers (and seeming all the time for Turians) wore. His looked to be the medium variant, and the name and rank badge were automatically translated with her Elkoss Combines' Cipher Unilateral Translation Module, displaying the name _Vakarian, C._, as well as his rank in C-SEC, _Prelate/Captain_.

"Yes?" The Turian asked, looking at her with slightly ovaloid blue eyes, his duel-toned flanged voice ringing out the sub-harmonic _polite_ in her field-of-view just below his plated face.

"Good Late Light, Captain." Jane affect a normal Turian greeting with a superior; she bowed her head slightly and put a three-fingered hand over her heart, tucking her last two fingers into her palm to simulate what most species had; fewer digits. "My name is Sister Shepard, and I…"

"Is there trouble?" _Alert_ came strong across her augmented visions thanks to her Cipher. A stranger at his door, and Captain Vakarian was ready for duty, it seemed.

"No, Captain, there is no trouble that I'm aware of." The young woman replied. "I am a missionary with the Latter-Day Saints, and as part of my duty to my church and faith, I volunteer two years in which I perform community services, humani… _sapient_ aid," the Missionary Training Center hadn't been sure if the word _humanitarian_ would be considered offensive, "civil duties and services, charity work, and ecclesiastical efforts for the populous in which my mission is located."

"I… have never heard of such a thing." The C-SEC Officer mused out loud, _curiosity_ coming to Jane. "Church. Is this like Spirit-Tending?" The young woman only had the barebones idea of what the Turians believed in; that everything had a Spirit, gained by those who served in its confines, such as vessels and units. As she understood it, there were Spirit Totems and Spirit Shrines for such things like Clans, vessels, and even principalities.

"Not in the way that Turians do, though we do believe in the Holy Spirit." Jane replied, not sure what to say or reply to a religion she knew little of and didn't wish to either be misinformative or be misinformed. "I will admit that I know little of the practices of the Spirit of Valluvius, sir. Since I've never actually had a Palavenian explain it to me, I might be incorrect as well." It was better to be truthful, after all. She wasn't about to insult someone else's religion or belief structure, and certainly sounding completely wrong wouldn't endear her to anybody! "What little I know is that the Book of Valluvius was written by a historic hero amongst the Turian people, General Publius Flavius Valluvius Renaltus, and that the book details thoughts and philosophies explaining the joys of civil duty, civil services, the duties to one's family and nation, and responsibilities of an individual for the whole of their species."

"That is a brief but apt description." _Impressed_ was spelled out, obviously the Turian Captain happy with the fact that she hadn't butchered his belief system. "You mentioned… that your Spirit-Church has something similar?" _Curiosity_ and _Intrigued_ came now. Jane felt her heart leap in her throat. This… this was exactly what she was hoping for! To talk to someone about her faith, and returning the favor by listening to their own! It was proper, after all.

"There are some similarities, sir." Jane replied, trying no to bounce on her toes. This was literally her _first_ time getting to talk to someone about her faith! And the first time a Turian didn't just _judge_ her about her species. As a Human born after the First Contact War, Jane had always been a little curious about the species that they shared the galaxy with, with all the different cultures, beliefs, and wonders that would make up a people and their views. The Quorum tried to disseminate what information they could so interactions were peaceful and proper. Their Lord and Savior did ask to treat others as brothers, to forward understanding as well as fostering goodwill towards others. "As a missionary, I devote two years of my life to the service of my Church to help others in need. We travel to many different places throughout Earth Alliance Space to forward help, foster aid and those in need, volunteering our efforts to help building better families and communities."

"You said Earth Alliance Space, which this is not." _Amusement_.

"I am the first to come to the Citadel, sir." Jane replied. "It took me almost three years to get my credentials and licenses to come to the Citadel to perform my mission. I saved up money that I've earned through chores and helping out the community for the opportunity to come here." There was a bit of a grunt, and yet the sub-harmonics said something else.

_Shock/wonder/grudging respect._

"I do believe you have intrigued me, Sister Shepard." The Captain said, his sub-harmonics agreeing with the statement. "I would like to hear more if you don't mind."

"Not at all, sir!" Again, Jane _really_ had to not bounce up and down out on her toes out of excitement. _I'm doing it, I'm really doing it!_ "In the hallway?"

"That… is rude to have a guest visit on the doorstep." The Turian replied, _politeness_ and _civility_ coming up in her vision. "Why don't you come in, Sister Shepard?"

"Yes, sir." Jane couldn't believe her ears! After so many closed doors, she was actually being able to have a discussion with someone!

"It's Castis." The Turian said as he stepped to the side to give her admittance.

"Castis Vakarian."

* * *

_Two Hours Later…_

_Prelate_ Castis Aladoor Vakarian found himself, of all things, being entertained by a female Human hatchling.

Oh, that wasn't to say that there was something with the young female, not at all! By entertain, what he meant to say was that he found her faith intriguing in a rustic sort of manner, and her actions _almost_ naive. That this child-adult would come to the Citadel to help people seemed almost laughable… until she described how she had planned to do just that in manners that he found rather respectful. Certainly there were community service programs in the Center of the Known Universe, yet they were generally catered to their own species, and usually through the Embassies. As he understood it, this 'Sister' Jane Shepard wished to open a location that would cater to the public directly. Instead of having them coming to an organization far from their homes and places of employment, this red-fringed almost-adult wanted to open up a location that would serve to the public where _they_ were, finding a location where it would do most good _for them_.

It seemed almost base naivety, but the _Prelate_ of the Civil Affairs Division (Tayseri Arm) _could_ see where this Human had gotten her ideas. Evidently, this Man-Spirit, Savior Jesus Christ, Son of God (a curious relationship, that) had done something like this some two thousand years prior, traveling in a Holy Land where his people were bridled under the yoke of an oppressive regime. This Christ-Spirit had come to help Humans not from afar, but by their side, like a good General who lead their troops by example, working amongst the rank-and-file to inspire. This 'missionary' work was of the same vein, calling upon those who would devote a portion of their lives by volunteering themselves to help improve lives, the conditions around them, giving to those in need and those who needed help. It seemed almost laughable, but this Sister Shepard said that her _sire_ and _dam_ had done so before her (albeit on Earth since it was just after Humanity discovered their Mass Relay in their own System) as well as millions of others. To help others without asking for payment in return, a work of charity and goodwill? To _save_ _up_ for the opportunity to do so? That was… really quite honorable. And it was completely volunteer! Not compulsory or mandatory! Oh, he didn't doubt that a 'Mormon' family (he wasn't sure what this name signified yet) would have its hatchlings do the same, the stigma of _not_ doing so quite strong. Yet he heard of the ethics towards family, of a clean lifestyle, of forgoing so many technological marvels that distracted from the improvement of self and the dis-ambiguity of family and relations. He had seen how most Human families lived in the few years they had occupied the Citadel, as well as through the Social News Medias that were Human-oriented, the _Prelate_ keeping on top of things that might matter amongst a species by learning more and preparing. Like the Asari, Human relationships seemed to be created and destroyed over electronic social networks, with high marriage contractual separations (called… divorces?) and a great deal of incessant prattling and bickering. Like most Turians, Castis found Humans to be flighty, ambiguous, quick to anger and insult, and even quicker to complain that they somehow deserved something more than what they earned.

Not this one, though. He had yet to smell one gram of deception or slyness to her.

Many of the things that she said though… intrigued him.

_Many of these very concepts are _Turian_ concepts_, Castis Vakarian thought to himself with some surprise as Sister Shepard talked, sometimes asking questions about his own culture and beliefs, getting clarifications when she had never heard of a concept or had questions to understand the details. The Human was obviously bright, educated by Human standards but willing to learn more, listened well, and spoke quite civilly. Oh, he noted the quite well-to-do Elkoss Combines' Cipher model that was implanted in her audio analogue, looping around the top of the fleshy extension to translate his words as well as his sub-harmonics. Yet his own Cipritine Armories' Pilum Augmented Translation Device had many more capabilities than the Human's basic Cipher model thanks to his position in C-SEC. He could actually monitor her baseline homeostasis algorithms to detect things like falsehood through elevated blood pressure or unusual secretions (Human leaked water from their pores when nervous or exerting themselves), and even gave translations to tone and facial expressions.

This child-adult was sincerely happy to talk to him, as well as listen to him.

The things that she told him about her religion were intriguing. Oh, it was a little on the barbaric end to his view of things, but he appreciated that that the goal seemed to be a great deal in things that he himself believed in; commitment to family and values, working towards the benefit of others, efforts to improve oneself physically and mentally, and adherence to a lifestyle that was a good deal more proper than what he had seen other Humans do.

And as much as he learned about her, her species, and her faith, she in turn learned about him, his species, and his beliefs.

It was strange having one who professed to believe something different… not arguing that he was somehow wrong or misaligned. Asari were rather famous for their belief that '_Siari_' encompassed all, that somehow their planetary Goddess was responsible for _everything_ in the galaxy. It wasn't as if Castis insisted that Asarikin had Spirits guiding them on their planet, and was certainly not about to quote the Book of Valluvius in ways they could actual _help_ the galaxy in more ways that dancing at bars and clubs in various forms of undress. This Sister Shepard didn't seem to try and fill his mind with the thought that 'her' beliefs were the right one. If he asked questions, she answered them honestly. If he saw comparisons and contrasts to their own separate beliefs, she would offer her own views on the things that she saw as well in a polite manner. There were quite a few similarities, and more than a few differences, of course, but what was one to expect of two separate belief structures created thousands of light years apart by two completely different species? The fact that there _were_ similarities was intriguing.

Well, except for the fact that General Renaltus wasn't _murdered_ by being impaled onto a large braced pole of some kind. That was certainly in the 'difference' category.

"So you have this… church here on the Citadel?" The _Prelate_ asked.

"Yessss… that's complicated, actually." The young female frowned a little. "There were no churches here of my faith, so my President, the voted leader of my Church Headquarters," Castis nodded, understanding this 'Mormon' Hierarchy, "got into contact with someone of a similar religion who did have a chapel here. Unfortunately, Father Simon Caldwell is well into his advanced years and can't work amongst the people like he wants to, though he does go to the public for conciliatory efforts, helping where he can. I guess you could say we kind of 'share' a church, which is known as the 'All-Faiths Chapel'. It's… a work of progress." Ah, he understood. This was merely the beginning effort, and two people of two different belief structures were having to make do, working together. That showed progress and cooperation. "It's located on the third floor of the Shibuya Tower in the 3400 Lower Tayseri." Well, the young Human female had certainly learned the lingo of the Cit.

"If there would be no issue, I would like to visit."

"I… _really?_" Castis' Pilum Augmented Translation Device detected surprise and happiness in her single-tone and unilayer voice. Her face certainly expressed the same thing according to his ATD. The _Prelate_ highly suspected that he might be this hatchlings' first victory in her efforts. "That would be wonderful!" Even Castis didn't need translation software to detect the young Human child-adult's joy. "We actually perform services tonight in a couple of hours. And then on Sundays as well! Well, every seventh day." That was right, Humans worked on a seven-day rotation known as a 'week', as oppose to the nine-day rotation that Turians had. "I would be happy if you were to visit, _Prelate_." Castis couldn't help but note how wide the Human's horizontal mandibles had gotten; a smile.

He had certainly made someone's day.

* * *

Sister Jane Shepard sat on the Turian-oriented couch in the domicile of Castis Vakarian, talking to the C-SEC _Prelate_ when she heard the front entranceway slide open to admit another sentient in. The Turian male was telling her about the basics of Hierarchy Military Service and his own contributions to his government and species (_pride_ kept coming up on her translator, no surprise), when the door opened and Jane looked to see another Turian male come in, this one also wearing Armax Arsenals' Predator Armor colored in periwinkle blue with soft black undertones; C-SEC's official colors. Based upon what she saw, she instantly assumed family member; the length of the fringe suggested male, the plate coloring was the same, as were the shape of the mandibles. But the dead giveaway (both for Turians and everyone else) was the same patterning and color of the colonial markings' upon the newcomers' faceplates; cobalt blue stripes on the rear of the vertical mandibles, the stripe that went from one cheekplate to the other, going over the bridge of the snout. She could see her Elkoss Combines' Cipher translate his identifying marks for her, _Vakarian, G._, along with his rank, _Centurion/Sergeant_. The Turian walked into the domiciles' family room where _Prelate_ Vakarian and herself were occupying, seeing that they had a guest with some visible surprise.

"Good Late Light, Sergeant Vakarian." Jane stood and acknowledged the C-SEC Officer, giving him the proper Turian greeting; bowing of the head and placing a 'three'-fingered salute on her heart. Castis had told her a little about his family (as she had hers), and knew that he had a wife, a son, and a daughter. So this was Garrus Vakarian, a part of the Citadel Security Services' Investigations and Evidence Division; the Citadel's version of Earth's Global Bureau of Investigations. As she understood it, he worked the Major Crimes Department, the Citadel's version of Anti-Organized Crime. In a location where an organized crime syndicate could in fact be galactic, Sergeant Vakarian was one of those who worked against the proverbial Mafia. "I am Sister Shepard, and I was having a rather wonderful and informative visit with your fath… _sire_." That's right, Turians called their fathers' _sires_ and their mothers' _dams_.

"I… good Late Light, Sister." The younger Vakarian sputtered slightly, looking at her in… the oddest manner, staring at her really. "I… must excuse myself. Apologies." Jane was a little shocked to see what, apparently, was a _fleeing_ Turian as the Sergeant left the family room to go somewhere deeper into the domicile. The act was odd, but what had her really worried was his translated sub-harmonics when he spoke.

…_recognitionfearconfusionpainangerguiltanxietyhorrorfrightenedragelossbetrayalsuffering_…

The redhead looked to Castis, who had obviously heard the same thing that she had, looking to her with… a face that knew.

"I fear that I must apologize for my son, Sister." The elder Vakarian said with a sigh, _flustered_ and _love_ coming to her vision with the aid of her Unilateral Translation Module. She could guess that the father knew what had happened to his son, but seemed to be at a loss at what to do. "He is normally quite amicable towards guests, and is… usually ambivalent with your species. Just…" _Love_ and _anxiety_ came.

"F-flashback?" Jane guessed softly, looking into the Turian's blue slightly-ovaloid eyes. "He looked at me… and something in his past came back like a trigger?" Shepard explained the term when the Turian cocked his head to one side, not knowing of it.

"Yes." _Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_, Jane thought to herself as she looked to where the Turian had fled, remembering how his sub-harmonics had just _filled_ her vision in a wide and continuous line of emotions and meanings, faster than she could read them. But she knew of PTSD, and it was said that reactions like what Sergeant Vakarian had were both common and expected. But what had triggered it? The _Prelate_ had just mentioned that Garrus was ambivalent with Mankind, meaning that at the least he was fair. That meant dealing and interacting, not removing himself from the situation while he relived some traumatic event in his life. "I must inform you," _regret_, "that my son is, in fact, a Veteran of the Relay 314 Incident."

_Oh, the First Contact War._

"I… reminded him of someone, didn't I?" Jane asked quietly, feeling guilt rise up in her as her heart ached a little. That implied… nothing good.

"I don't know, honestly." _Guilt_ and _forlorn_ came to her vision. "Garrus, like most boys, was enthusiastic about his service for the Hierarchy. Much in the way you likely were with your missionary work." Jane nodded, easily remembering her own nervousness and excitement. "Near the end of his compulsory fifteen years," that had Jane a little amazed and awed at the length of service, "he and his unit were sent to Shanxi for the Incident. He came back… changed, different. Not for the better, I'm afraid." _Loss_ and _bewilderment_, a father who likely didn't know how to handle the situation, wanting to be there for his son but at a loss at what to do. "He had been talking of re-enlisting before, but instead got out and told me his desire to join C-SEC. He… never speaks of Shanxi or the Incident. Spirits know that I've tried, but…" _Pain_ and _resignation_. "He has found a way to live with his issues, but I believe them unresolved. It isn't healthy." _Frustration_, _love_, and _helplessness_. Jane had to blink back tears.

This father wanted to help his ailing son, but didn't know how. Likely had tried hundreds of times without success.

"I know amongst Humanity," Jane began slowly, "that we have people to help those who suffer what we call 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder'. But the biggest problem has always been getting those suffering people to come forward, especially members of our military. There's… a bit of a stigma amongst the males of my species and asking for help, they think its a sign of weakness or lack of masculinity."

"That is certainly true among us as well." Castis admitted, _sadness_ echoing his answer in both tone and sub-harmonics. "Spirits, I want help my son." _Resolve_ and _helplessness_ came to her vision, and it broke Jane's heart. For a parent to see their child suffer but not know what to do or how to fix it was certainly a terrible thing. She could see the Turian's face-plates… sag, and Jane knew that the father suffered alongside his son, taking that pain and being strong for his son's time of need. _Like a father should_, Shepard thought.

"_Prelate_ Vakarian?" The redhead went to the Turian, getting off he Turian-oriented piece of furniture that she was sitting on to come up to him, kneeling before him and taking a three-taloned hand into both of her own. "I would like to help your son."

"I fear… there is little to do…" He began, but Jane wouldn't have it.

"I came to _help_." The missionary said, emphasizing the word. "We help those in need. We feed the hungry, help the poor, tend to the sick, and _heal_ those who are suffering. And that is a man in pain, sir." Jane pointed in the direction that Garrus Vakarian had gone. "To ignore it, to do nothing? No, I couldn't do that. I _might_ not be able to help, this is true." She allowed. "But there is _something_ about me that made him regress, that made him relive whatever happened. I hate to say that makes him vulnerable or weak, but it does give _him_ the opportunity to open up, the chance to find resolution and forgiveness. If I could do that for him…" Jane looked into the elder Turian's eyes, seeing… something there. Perhaps a glimmer of hope, a spark of yearning.

"I… please?" _Love_ and _hope_. Jane smiled as she held his hand.

"Of course."

* * *

Author's Notes: Castis Vakarian is one of the few characters in _Mass Effect_ to appear/be mentioned in _all_ of the major _Mass Effect_ games (he was not mentioned in Infiltrator and Galaxy), as well as some of the _Homeworld_ series involving his son, Garrus Vakarian. Funny enough, his name wasn't 'known' until _Andromeda_ in one of Alec Ryder's memories, where he is officially named.

Publius Flavius Valluvius Renaltus - Actually, this is based off the real-life Roman military author Publius Flavius Vegetius Renaltus, whose '_De Re Militari_' ["Concerning Military Manners"] was the Roman version of the Art of War, and was very often seen in the hands of European Military Officers in the Middle Ages and even into the 18th and 19th century. The Book of Valluvius is a ME Canon text that became the basis upon the ideas of which the Hierarchy was formed, so I picked a RL book that was at least as substantial, having already known of Flavius' work for years (and actually have read some of this work). Flavius' _Militari_ was quite possibly the most popular book to have for almost a thousand years, known copies made and gifted to kings (like Richard III), lords, generals, commanders, and warring noblemen, beating Pliny the Elder's _Natural History_ in physical copies (literally, yes… _copied a lot_) and one of the antiquated works still in existence today. While perhaps obsolete in terms of siege craft and weaponry, one can see modern military thought in this work in terms of training, establishing camps, handling battle and organization, and to promote _esprit de corps_ amongst the troops. It could likely be the most influential non-religious text in the world along with Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_. It is believed to have been written in and around 250-290 AD/CE. King Richard III's copy (yes, the _Lionheart_) can be found displayed in the British Museum, and a more modern English text (1790 AD/CE) can be found online for free. Surprisingly enough, this is a 'small' work meant to attract military commanders to read and not be intimidated by size, a portable copy meant to take on the field. So… a TL;DR version of military tactics and field operations from back in the 3rd Century.

Cipritine Armory is a manufacturing company I've used before for Turian-manufactured and related equipment. As the Turians are 'based' off of Roman ideas, the name of Castis Vakarian's translation Device is _'pilum'_; the Roman Infantry Javelin used to impale into shields of their enemies to weigh them down and expose them to harm.

Who Invented The Seven-Day Week? - Besides the Biblical reference in The Book of Genesis (six days of work, one day of rest), Ancient Babylonians also adhered to the seven-day week in accordance to the Lunar Calender (the Solar Calender would come much later, in Roman times, thanks to the invention of the sundial and someone actually marking high-noon to realize that there were three hundred and sixty-five days, the calender known as the Julian Calender, put into effect my _Pontiff Maximus _Julius Augustus Caesar to correct the 'drifting' of 11 days per year) based upon the one celestial object ancient people could accurately map; the phases of Luna. Each phase is seven days long (from full, to wane-half, to new, to wax-half, to full, is twenty-eight days, and each phase is seven days). Roman Emperor Constantine made the Seven Day Week official in 313 AD/CE. Others have tried (and failed) to change this standard (the French Revolution went to ten, the Russian Revolution first to five, and then six). So when you try to compute the fact that 365 and 7 don't exactly divide too evenly and wonder why, here is your reason.

Now I think you know why I picked the title 'The Fault In Our Stars'. I'll describe later where it comes from, likely in the next two chapters. It's Shakespearian, though.

And honestly, it _is_ practically impossible to have a story with Shepard without Vakarian. So Jane and Garrus meet in 2170 in _very_ different circumstances. Be prepared; I am going to hand you back your heart nicely after I rip it right out of your chest.


End file.
